


Project: Ganymede

by felicia_angel



Series: Tear You Apart [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fisting, Double Penetration, Edging, Erotic Electrostimulation, Gang Rape, I'm messing with RE timelines, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Porn With Plot, Rape, Resident Evil 5 Rewrite, Tentacle Rape, Threesome - M/M/M, Wesker's god complex, based on a porno, because they don't mess with themselves enough, no seriously, non-con edging, not a lot of plot though, oh hey tentacles, seriously non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 15:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicia_angel/pseuds/felicia_angel
Summary: Based onthis short pornfrom Studio FOW, and taking some of the story written up byValnoressa, with permission.Chris' hubris gets him caught by Wesker, who decides to test out his former best man.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly - do you know how hard it is to find a name that isn't cliched for gods abducting and keeping people? *sigh*  
> Secondly - Thanks to StudioFOW for giving me the thumbs up when I asked to write a full-blown story off a one-minute animation! And then getting me to look up Resident Evil stuff so I get the characters right for the next part of my evil story.
> 
> Third...I'm seriously going off whatever I find on the interwebs about Chris, Wesker, and Resident Evil in general, so please be kind if I get timing wrong...

**_Top Secret Facility, South Africa – 2010_ **

Chris Redfield curses his luck…no, that’s not really what it is. His hubris is far more to blame for his situation then his luck. He knew the dangers, knew that his former commander, Albert Wesker, was not someone you took on alone – he’d been witness to enough of the monster’s atrocities and actions for that to be something that should have sunk in long ago. Hell, Chris is one of the few people who’s gone head-to-head with Wesker after his dehumanization and _lived_.

Yet the past year of humiliation and setbacks, of constantly being one step behind Wesker, his Neo-Umbrella organization, and everything else, had only served to make Chris compliant and sloppy. He was never this stupid, not even at the mansion, when he still looked up to Wesker as his commander, or after it, when he’d gone in to multiple sites, only to learn that Wesker had ‘helped’, had simply allowed Chris and his team to take the lion’s share of the danger while he took the data needed to build himself an army.

Wesker’s death – his actual death, not his death-then-resurrection – would strike a critical blow for them and manage to put at least one thing to rest. Chris was determined, and that resulted in his capture by the local, well-paid (or already-turned, Chris had yet to figure out what Wesker was up to here) guards that had roughly grabbed him, taken his weapons and any other ways of communication, and injected something into the back of his neck before knocking him unconscious. Why they decided to do it that way instead of simply having Chris knocked out and waking up without his items and not even knowing about the drug or whatever it was that they decided to give him.

Chris’ main fear had been that he’d been injected by one of the viruses that Wesker had created over the years, and then his realization of how that would look – not just to his own legacy, but that of the BSAA – and how his decision that the risk was worth the reward, would ultimately lead to him probably being used against his own men when they came in to end the operation, and found Chris mutated.

Chris had just awoken, aching from where he’d been tackled, and his body felt odd…heavy. He was vaguely aware that even staying upright was hard to do without concentrating, or from the aid of whatever odd, high-backed, angled chair or sofa or whatever he was trapped in. This will make it twice as hard to escape, but Chris tries to mentally rally himself. After all, it appeared he was in a conference room, not a cell, and even if his eyes weren’t focusing or his body felt heavy, he also knew that wasn’t a sign of him being an experiment for one of the viruses Wesker created.

 _You’ve had worse to work through. Come on, you can focus. Focus, Chris!_ His mind’s demands were not met by his body, and he managed only a groan of frustration as he failed to do more than move his head and sit up a little before falling back down against the high-back chair he’d been put in.

“Chris,” the smooth, familiar voice of Albert Wesker sends a chill down Chris’ spine as he sees the tall man walk in, flanked only by a well-armed guard that appears uninfected by any of Umbrella’s viruses. Wesker’s eyes are, as usual, hidden behind the dark sunglasses he always wears, but Chris notices a flash of their red color go as he looks at him, “You’ve been a thorn in my side for a full year now. I’m impressed.” He walks closer, Chris doing his best to rally up enough fight to kick or do…something…to at least show he’s not some defenseless civilian or idiot who didn’t know the full extent of the dangers. Wesker might have some enhancements from Umbrella’s horror show that they continually created, but Chris had taken him on and come out of it alive before. He would again here.

“Do you know,” Wesker says, almost like they were chatting before a briefing during the STARS days, as he takes off his sunglasses, his red eyes flashing at Chris, “how _absolutely_ tiresome it is, constantly on the move? Having to make sure your equipment, personnel, everything is briefed in case your little agency comes in?” Chris glares up at him as Wesker casually cleans his sunglasses and puts them back on, adding, “You and your agency has dogged me every step of the way, Chris. I find it hard to believe I’m the only one for your little force to bother with...”

The whole thing blurred suddenly, Chris feeling his body tilt dangerously to one side and barely manage to keep himself upright as he mutters, “Wh-wha-what did you…drug me with…?”

Wesker smirks at him, reaching out to run his fingers briefly through Chris’ hair as the other man tries to get away, the movement only serving to make him more off-balance and unable to focus. “I think you should see what it’s like to be dogged as relentlessly as you’ve been this year, Redfield.” Chris’ focus is still bad, only hearing Wesker say…something…about…undressing?...as his body briefly stops giving his mind input, getting Chris to mentally scream in protest and fear.

It’s only when he hears his own shirt rip that Chris manages to focus again, eyes widening as he sees Wesker, half-naked and with his belt and pants undone, reaching to pull off Chris’ shirt and open up his belt and pants. Behind him, the guard having given over his clothing and the weapons in his hands to another guard as he works to get out of his pants and boots. Wesker’s own dick is already showing through his underwear, and Chris does his best to fight back, attempting to kick and get away as he mutters, “W-what the…the hell are you…doing?”

“The drug I gave you is good for incapacitating, and keeps anyone groggy for long periods of time when there’s no activity,” Wesker tells him casually, moving to pull off Chris’ pants and boots in one easy, brutal, strong pull that nearly sends Chris off the seat as he tries to get away, to get his arms, hands, _something_ to work. He manages to flex his hands, to grab for purchase against the chair, and starts shaking his head and doing his best to struggle as he sees the first guard stripped and walking towards him, his cock thick and already half-erect.

“Y-you cowardly bastards,” Chris grits out between his teeth as the guard easily pulls him up by one arm, standing and unable to even remain upright on his own, as Wesker smirks at him, running a hand down his back before cupping his ass briefly.

“Oh, Chris, I’m sure you think that the drug will go out of your system with actions, but truthfully, it will only stay in no matter what happens. It does, however, allow for far more clarity when you’re…stimulated,” Wesker chuckles, stroking Chris member as the younger man tries to lash out but fails, instead doing his best to throw insults despite the pain and fear building from the hold the other man has, as well as his obvious, growing interest in Chris’ struggles. Wesker laughs and pulls on Chris’ cock, the pain getting Chris to cry out before Wesker nods to the other man, “Hold and prepare him, but I want him first.”

Chris finds himself sitting back down, this time on the guard’s lap, feeling the man’s erection growing against his ass as he weakly struggles. The guard holding him up from behind, an arm wrapped around Chris’ torso to keep him still as another, gets something from whatever was in the tray next to them, moving down as Wesker holds Chris’ legs apart, allowing for access as Chris shakes his head. “Stop, stop this, no, you ba--!” his curse is cut short as he feels a finger press against his ass, his weak struggles only serving to push it further in as he groans in pain. The intruding digit works itself further in, only making him pant and groan at the unfamiliar pressure. Chris shakes his head, the drug and hold stopping him from moving too much, and he lets out a sudden, shaky breath as the finger probes in deeper, pressing against a spot that makes his cock jump and his body burn in pleasure.

“N-no, stop, you…you bastards, let me go.”

Wesker’s eyes flash red behind his dark sunglasses again, this time tinted with yellow, a smirk on his lips as he watches Chris struggle, the few pushes from the finger going from strange and intruding to almost pleasurable as it sometimes it hits the clump of nerves that makes him curse and moan, trying to throw his head back and hit the guard, but not managing to connect. The guard’s head is to one side, the light breath on his shoulder getting Chris to let out a frustrated growl that turns into a gasp of pleasure as the finger hits on the pleasure spot inside him. Hearing Wesker’s deep, needy chuckle fills Chris with fear as the finger leaves his ass, the sound of something being coated in the sticky thing from the tray nearby getting him to fight more as he also sees Wesker move over, a handful of what appears to be some sort of lube coating his erect cock, Wesker stroking it as Chris shakes his head, once more struggling before he feels something else, thicker than before, pushing against his entrance.

Chris let out a yell of pain as the cock pushed into him in one movement, the long stroke up making his vision white out briefly as he feels two more fingers, sticky-wet with the lube, tracing his opened hole. “You took that in pretty easily, Chris. I never thought you’d be so willing.”

“F-fuck you both, y-you bastard,” the hand around is leg lets go, the two arms moving to lock in place as Chris nearly got control of his arm again, the left one barely managing to move forward as his legs fell down. The intruding, thick cock is still in place, not even moving, as Chris felt the grogginess and inability to focus come back to his body as Wesker laughed.

“Oh, you’re handling that fine for the two of us, Chris,” Wesker growls, low and throaty, as one, then another finger push into him, alongside the cock already putting pressure on his entrance. “I’m going to have fun with you.”

Chris shook his head, cursing as Wesker pushes another finger in, scissoring the three slightly as Chris pants, the feel starting to get to his body as his mind rebels against what’s going on. He’s got to fight the drug, got to fight back. He can’t let this happen. He won’t!

“I’ll kill you for this,” Chris growls as Wesker pulls out his fingers, stroking the bit of the guard’s cock still exposed, getting it to twitch inside of Chris and making him let out a moan of despair as his attempt to move, to push Wesker away, only results in his hands weakly moving against the strong arms wrapped tight around his chest.

Wesker laughs as he moves forward, grabbing Chris’ legs and lifting them up, easily parting them as Chris tries to kick at him, to push him away as his arm barely manages to bend at the elbow, his hand flexing as he tries to push back, away, anything to get him out of this situation. Wesker puts Chris’ left leg over one shoulder, the right down near his hip, and reaches with his right hand to grip his own cock before lining up. Chris begins to curse as he feels the new pressure start to build, his body finally starting to answer his mind’s instructions to fight back, but the strong hold of the guard and Wesker keep him from really doing much to escape them. Wesker growls as he pushes into Chris, rubbing against the guard’s cock and shoving Chris back against the chair, the guard holding Chris moving as well to keep his cock inside. Chris feels like he’s being split apart, hearing Wesker’s gravelly purr of his name as he fully seats in, then begins to move, steadily pumping in and out of Chris’ body after the initial resistance, the guard remaining still and holding the BSAA member in place as he’s taken by his former STARS commander.

Chris does his best to look away, but the smooth movement, pushing inside of him and easily going out moves him completely, forcing his head to fall forward and back, seeing Wesker once more loom over him. Chris starts to pant at the pain and sensation building in him from the feel of it, and it only adds to his anger at Wesker laughs as he continues to take the younger man, his body’s paleness standing out more as he moved against Chris’ less pale, living, suntanned skin.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this, Wesker,” Chris says, his head turning as he sees what’s going on, his brain trying to figure out why he’s not bleeding from the violation and pain, why his cock is hard despite the overwhelming feeling of fullness and stretching to near-breaking, all of it adding to his anger and confusion as he looks up. Wesker smiles as he easily keeps up the pace, Chris feeling his bravado slip, fear slipping into his mind briefly as all he sees is the smirk on Wesker’s face, the feel of the two men inside of him, the fear as he realizes his luck on tracking Wesker might not result in him being found…that Wesker has been _leading to this_ , and there’s nothing Chris can do, even if he’s not drugged…

“Y-you…you fucking cowards,” Chris says, breathless at the continued push/pull and pleasure/pain, at each accidental hit of his prostate, panting as he tries to move his arms, only his elbows bending to any satisfaction as he shakes his head, caught by the building pressure and pleasure.

He finally looks back up towards Wesker, his fear at what was happening and his former commander’s maniacal laughs and grunts of pleasure, pleasure that Chris is beginning to feel, getting Chris to beg, feeling pathetic as he does, “Just let me go. Just…let me go.” He hates the whine in his voice, the pain and humiliation building as much as his weakness from the drug, his head lulling to one side as Wesker laughs at his pain, still moving into him and pressing into his body.

“We’ve only just begun,” Wesker promises with a smile, leaning in and pushing Chris’ body into a slightly different position, one that sparked a bit more pleasure while also reminding him of the presence of two cocks in his ass. Even though the guard simply seemed to use it and his body to keep Chris still as Wesker violated him, it’s still something that gets Chris to groan at the change, unable to hold in the sound. His arms are pulled behind his back by the guard and held tightly as the change of angle has Wesker’s pace speed up, now pounding harder into Chris and his abused hole.

“You fucking _cowards_ ,” Chris growls, his fear and the pressure/pleasure turning to anger as he manages to use what strength he has to look over and glare at Wesker, obviously getting a rise out of Chris’ defiance from the smirk he offers in return. “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you both, I swear!”

Wesker only laughs as Chris feels something start to pulse inside of him, but knowing his own feeling of pleasure, he realizes that it can only mean…

“N-no!” the pace gets faster, the sudden start of the guard joining in the thrusts only making Chris’ fear and shame spike as the grip on his hands tighten, the guard arching as Wesker pushes deep inside of Chris, letting out a growl of pleasure before laughing in triumph. Chris can only curse them as Wesker pulls out, the feel of…of Wesker’s cum…coming out of his ass as the other man removes his cock, laughing as Chris curses at his former teammate, humiliation up as Wesker says with confidence, “Ah, there it is…”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Chris manages to growl out, the guard still holding him still as Wesker reaches over to grab hold of Chris’ half-hard cock, stroking it once before reaching to once more coat his fingers in the lube or whatever it was nearby. The guard holds Chris steady as he tries to get away, his legs still spread and cum still seeping out of his abused ass. Wesker strokes him quickly to fullness, Chris cursing as he does his best to not give in, to not allow his body to react the way it wants to react to the stimulation.

_No, no, fuck no, this is Wesker, I can’t…no…_

“Bastard, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Still so confident of your abilities,” Wesker says as he continues to stroke Chris, getting Chris to struggle weakly against the hold, mentally noticing his strength returning, as well as his focus, even as shame washes through him at realizing what had be done for those small gains.

“You’re so sensitive to my touch, Redfield. Are you starting to enjoy it? Missed being my subordinate that much?”

“Bastard, like I’d enjoy anything you do,” Chris growls, panting suddenly as his hips begin to move a bit at the continued pressure and movement, the feeling getting him to let out a groan in frustration, getting him to try to focus on anything else. The sudden pressure of the guard’s renewed interest is apparently noticed by Wesker. Chris does his best to ignore it, to curse and try to get Wesker’s attention back to him, but Wesker only seems to find it funny, saying, “Go ahead, take him again.”

“No!” Chris tries to protest, but the guard moves, Wesker stopping enough to help impale Chris back onto the guard’s cock, laughing as Chris lets out a cry of pain, the guard’s hold on him tight around his arms. Chris pants, trying to fight back but trapped by Wesker’s strength and the hold from the guard as Wesker reaches over to pull at the back of Chris’ head and force him to look at his former commander. At some unseen signal, the guard began to thrust his hips, slamming into Chris hard as Wesker said, “Only look at me, Chris. I’m the one who’s going to give you this much pleasure and pain.” The feel of Wesker’s hand back on Chris cock, stroking it in time with the guard’s movements, made Chris curse him again, trying to focus on anything else as the pressure began to build, more and more pleasure coming through his senses then the disgust and pain he’d used to focus.

“Bastard, you bastard…let me go…” the last part came out as a pathetic whine, a pleading sound that made him feel like a spoiled child that wasn’t getting his way. “Stop, stop please!”

“You’re close, aren’t you Chris?” Wesker’s hand tightened painfully around the back of Chris’ skull, the BSAA member beginning to pant in need of sexual release before he glanced down and saw Wesker once more starting to get hard. “You’d best keep your eyes on me, Chris. I’m not one to ask nicely.”

“You fucking bastard,” Chris growled out, struggling again even as pleasure rose from the pounding, a shift to hold him nearer to Wesker resulting in the bundle of nerves being hit more and more often, while Wesker’s stroking his cock got him closer to cumming. “Bas-ah-ah, j-just let me go.”

“Where would be the fun in that? As I said, I’ve only just started with you, Chris.” Wesker laughed again as Chris’ panting became more uneven, the guard’s thrusts harder and faster, Chris unable to shake his head as pleasure shot through him, cum covering Wesker’s hands as Chris felt the guard’s cum empty into him again.

Shame and rage filled him as he once more whispered, his feeling of hopelessness adding to his rage, “I’ll kill you for this, Wesker, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Wesker pulls back, holding Chris’ head in place as Wesker brings up the hand coated in Chris’ cum. Chris glanced away as Wesker made a ‘tsk’ sound, moving the hand near Chris’ mouth. “Lick it off.”

“Fuck you and die.”

The movement is so fast that Chris can’t follow it, though it’s not surprising to him – he’s faced Wesker for nearing a decade now, and was the first to see Wesker’s transformation into something inhuman. His ears are still ringing from the blow, cheek aching as Wesker uses his other hand grip Chris’ jaw, the pain forcing it open as Wesker sticks his coated fingers into Chris’ mouth, forcing them down so Chris nearly chokes.

“I said ‘lick it’.”

Chris remains still, trying to focus through the pain, considering biting down but it was bad enough that Wesker’s semen was in him – who knew what the blood would do?

Wesker still wipes Chris’ own cum on his tongue, chuckling as he removes his fingers before saying, “We’ll have to work on your training, Chris.”

“Screw you,” Chris growls as the grip loosens on his chin, the grogginess from before starting to creep in from the drug.

Wesker doesn’t even bother to laugh or smirk before he stood, the guard following and holding Chris upright as Wesker moved, going to pick up a few things from nearby that Chris couldn’t see with the drug reasserting itself, until he felt Wesker’s cold hand on his face.

“My best man…I have some training for you.”

=

_“You loathe Chris Redfield so much?” His second had asked with far too much bravado as they watched Chris coming towards their compound, taking out men easily as he did, but obviously alone. “For foiling your plans, or for ensuring you had a plan?”_

_“I had a plan, and he made it more complicated.” Chris’ inability to understand, to simply allow Wesker to finish his work, had set him back years, and given Sergi and the Red Queen their time to keep him from all that should have been his. Those extra few years, and Wesker could be further along in his work, and not running from those do-gooders who didn’t understand his plan._

_“Yet without him, you would not be the god you are today,” the second remarked, “but I think you forget the older gods and their powers, the ones that remain even after Christianity spreads.”_

_Wesker turned, looking at him coolly through his dark shades. “What’s that supposed to mean?”_

_The second didn’t seem to notice the danger he was in, instead saying, “The God of Abraham is petty, and believes only he can heal, that only he can be the son and the father. Old gods know that the best way to do this is to have both – a son and a father. To find the one you hate the most, or admire the most, and make them your own. You are a_ god _, Wesker, and you continue to allow this man to live. Take him as you should have taken him at the beginning.”_

_It’s odd, to look up such things when he found no reason to look up names or beings before. What use would Wesker have for gods when he was one himself? He had no use for them before, when he worked for Umbrella and saw that they were nowhere near competent enough to do what needed to be done with the T-Virus, let alone any other virus they created and unleashed on their underpaid and unhappy company men. Now, with it brought up, he considers as he watches Chris come in – his muscles have gotten more defined and bulkier, obviously his focus on fighting Wesker…he’s turned himself into a weapon, to point at Wesker and defeat him, no matter what. That he is so determined to find and defeat Wesker…perhaps he could use that…_

_“When he comes in, use the drug we have to keep our guests aware but unable to move. Let me see what I can do with him before I make the choice.”_

_“Of course,” his second said with a smile, “I live only to serve you.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is given over to the guards, but when that doesn't quite work out, Wesker comes up with _new_ entertainment.

Chris growls out through the gag, made of the remains of his shirt, and once more shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge the tight blindfold over his eyes. Unlike the gag, this is more professionally designed, remaining tight around his head and thicker around where his eyes were, keeping Chris from seeing even if he opened them. He hears Wesker laugh, rubbing a hand through Chris’ hair once more as Chris mutters more curses through the gag at Wesker, hating the treatment. The drug is still making him uncoordinated and weak, but Wesker had still cuffed Chris’ arms behind his back with a shorter, solid-bar style handcuff. It was smaller than a chain handcuff, more secure in some ways, and kept his arms strained with how his hands were so close, the angle meaning they were low on his back instead of higher up, where he might have a chance to break free.

The continued touching by Wesker only serves to remind Chris of _who_ still has him. The chill of his skin and hands, reminding Chris of his inhumanity, that the person he’d once followed was dead and this _thing_ was the real Wesker, cold and unfeeling and only wanting to cause suffering for his own psychotic needs. He curses again as the hand _petting_ Chris’ hair moves down and traces his ear and down neck, another holding his shoulder and upper back.

“You never were creative with your curses,” Wesker says as a hand go back through Chris’ hair, grip tightening and pulling Chris head back and up towards where the ceiling was, or had been last Chris checked, while Wesker’s other hand moves along Chris’ throat and begins to trace his chest muscles. Chris squirms, trying to move away, but the lingering effects of the drug, his still-painful ass from being violated twice by Wesker and his guard, and Wesker’s tight hold that becomes painful in his hair doesn’t allow for much give as the unwanted exploration continues. Chris hears his former commander say, as casually as before, “Whatever is that little team you joined feeding you, Chris? You were never so…” a finger ran lightly along Chris side, getting him to jump at the sensation, “’Wide’, in your muscular definition. This can’t all be for me, can it?”

Chris refused to answer, trying to focus on breathing and ignoring the almost intimate tracing as Wesker splayed his hand over Chris’ stomach, admiring his six-pack and coming dangerously close to Chris’ abused cock. “Which was it, Chris? I doubt it was for any of the companies after Umbrella, though I must admit, you were quite handy with ensuring the last of their creations was thoroughly tested and found…lacking.” Chris ignored the taunt, instead filing the information away for when he escaped, when he was debriefed, to add to Wesker’s file so they could better track and find him, better stop his mad schemes and genocidal actions. “Was this all for the beating I gave you when you came for your sister?” Wesker chuckles as he begins to stroke Chris’ leg lightly, almost intimately, as Chris feels his breath briefly pick up before he focuses it back. No, he won’t give Wesker the satisfaction of seeing him panic again, of hearing him beg like that. He’ll kill Wesker this time, for everything he’s done, for everyone who died because of him and for every friend and team member he killed and used as a guinea pig in his sick experimentations.

“You’ve gone quiet on me, Chris,” Wesker purrs in his ear, body pressing Chris’ back into the same high-back chair they’d taken him in, the pressure pulling at his shoulders and the cold skin only serving to remind Chris that Wesker isn’t human anymore – he was never really the commander that Chris looked up to, the leader and friend that Chris believed him to be. “I’m beginning to think I’m boring you.” The last sentence carried a familiar edge to it, and Chris felt Wesker’s teeth graze his neck as he shuddered in repulsion from the contact.

“Sir,” a new voice ( _remember it – accented, not from here, but somewhere else…where? Europe maybe? – covers it, different…_ ) gets Wesker to at least be quiet as he waits to hear what the man ( _older? No, only a bit older than I am, I need to see him, get a visual so I can find out who he is, who’s working for Wesker_ ) to pause in his exploration of Chris’ body.

“The preparations are done, and we only await your orders before we begin.”

Chris feels and hears Wesker’s low chuckle rumble through his chest before Wesker whispers to him, “Time to see how much training you’ll need, Chris. You may have been my best man, but your current employers have woefully neglected your training, and I need to remedy that. My best man must be back to his best shape.”

An involuntary “fuck you” is muffled by the gag, but obviously Wesker realizes what it is, laughing a bit as he lets go of Chris’ hair, saying to the man who spoke up from…near the door? ( _I need to get the layout again, figure out where I am in the building, so I can get out and escape_ ) that he would be on his way, and then speaking to the guard about taking Chris to ‘the cell’ before the sound of his boots echoed on the floor, Chris mentally counting it and remembering Wesker’s easy stride before they stop and turn. “I expect you and the men to entertain Chris while I am away. I will start my training when I return.”

Chris felt his blood run cold at that, hearing the happy and lustful affirmative from the guard ( _one was watching, waiting, holding the other’s uniform…right? Then where is he? Or is he sending me with his naked guard? No, I heard someone getting dressed so where…)_ before he feels the guard’s hands on him, the one easily lifting him up into a over-the-shoulder carry and taking the time to slap Chris’ ass before squeezing it, as if testing it’s firmness. He hears two sets of boots – Wesker and the other guard (?) – head in the opposite direction. Chris feels his mind suddenly rally even as his body still struggles with the drug and his inability to really fight back against his current predicament.

_I won’t let this happen again. No. Damn you, Wesker, I’m not going to be used for your sick games!_

It’s not completely a fight as the one carries Chris out, the BSAA agent kicking and managing a good connection that causes the guard to fold and drop Chris onto hard, metal-plated floors before he tries to scramble up and away. The method doesn’t worth, the guard recovering quicker than Chris had anticipated as he pulls him back up before he hits Chris hard, sending him reeling to the deck. The guard picks him up in a sort of improvised fireman’s carry that has Chris too light-headed from the hit and the near-choke-hold on him to really focus on escape or where they were going.

Some part of Chris thought to an old book he’d read with Claire when they were kids, a mystery about finding the location of a missing person and it being nearby, but that no one knew that because precautions were taken to make it seem far away. He isn’t sure why, but the thought that being blindfolded and turned around, body drugged and mind shaken from the hit, not to mention from being violated in such a way, seemed to make him feel like they weren’t really going far, simply that he was being spun around to make it feel like they were, and so he couldn’t get a good idea of _where_ he was, if Chris somehow got out and escaped the place.

That doesn’t stop him from continuing to fight when he could, to pull and kick and struggle the moment he thought he might get away with it, no matter what the consequence. He won’t turn back into that pathetic, whining person he was when Wesker violated him. He’s not about to give in, no matter what protocol might say, or anything else.

He doubts the guard is really worse for wear from Chris’ struggles when they do stop and he hears the sound of various languages being spoken, a few he recognizes as local dialects, and others as Afrikaans or some European ones, and a few accented English from various points around the globe. His anger at them all for taking in Wesker’s lies, for selling out their own humanity for whatever Wesker promised them, made Chris determined to not give in, no matter what. He wasn’t about to let them break him. He wouldn’t become the pathetic thing that had briefly raised its head at Wesker’s violation of his body.

The guards all talk loudly, and Chris shakes his head as he passed around from various hands after being set down, some smelling of smoke from various types of drugs or cigarettes, others with the stink of beer and alcohol on them. They all laugh as he manages to clock one by throwing his head back when he hears them get too close, their hot, sour-smelling breath on his shoulder and blood hitting there to show that he landed a solid hit. Chrs tries to escape, getting only a stop before he’s caught and turned again, a curse coming muffled from the man before Chris gets a fist in his face for his troubles, more cheering and laughter as he vaguely hears the ‘rules’ go around.

“Nothing permanent – no, not ours – we can have some fun – nothing too bad – we’ll get all the others…”

 _Others…_ Chris almost wants to tell them there won’t be others, but he doubts they’ll believe that, since he’d lead the BSAA teams through plenty of clean-ups where their comrades and fellow assholes were caught and either killed or taken for trial. They wouldn’t come in half-cocked and full of self-assuredness like Chris had, and they certainly weren’t about to come so soon after Chris had run off on his own to try to take down Wesker.

Chris could hope that his team, or a team, would come for him, but he also knows that if they do, he’ll be benched for all of the bullshit reasons until the next BOW or hint of Wesker shows up. Meantime, the men around him are chatting in too many languages, either with one another or in a small group, as one of the men – taller than Chris, leaner, wearing combat pants that did nothing to hide how hard he was, muttered something before pushing Chris to his knees, the impact making Chris let out a muffled cry of pain before he’s turned around, the gag pulled off at the same time a zipper sounds near his ear, and a thick cock is shoved into his mouth.

Chris bites down hard, the hand in his hair to try to push him deeper letting go as the man let out his own yell of pain and anger, pulling away as Chris yelled out, “You fucking ba—“ before someone hits him again, sending him down to the floor as a booted foot hits low on his chest, winding him and getting Chris to curl up before the same hands pull him back up and the same movement is repeated. The winding and sudden loss of air doesn’t stop Chris from biting down again, just as hard, the men now laughing around him as he’s hit hard enough to be nearly sent sprawling, a few yells from the other men apparently telling the man who tried to get Chris to suck his cock to stop, one saying with a thick Australian accent, “You dumbass, he’s gagged for a _reason_ ,” as Chris is dragged up and put over the back of some sort of furniture – he thinks a couch, his sense of direction is screwed from the constant turning and the blindfold keeping him from really being able to focus well, the feel of two fingers pushed deep into him making Chris struggle against the hold of the Australian man, cursing as the man chuckles lustfully and begins to pump his fingers. “See, he’s a little kitten now.”

“Fucking bastards,” Chris growls out, trying to pull away or shake off the man as another finger moves in, the three pushing hard as the Australian man begins to spread them while he slowly moves them in and out of Chris, “I’m gonna kill you for this, you pieces of shit.”

Another man walks around Chris, pulling his head up by his hair and shoving the gag, or at least a similar cloth ball, back into his mouth and using another to tie it up, muttering, “He’s no more a kitten then a tiger is, you’re playing with fire here.” He’s got an accent Chris can’t place as easily as some of the others, a sort of odd, near-generic African accent that Chris almost thinks is faked, and badly at that.

“Oh, I’m sure we could get him more amenable,” the Australian man says as he continues to finger-fuck Chris, moving quicker into Chris as the BSAA agent lets out curses and threats into the new gag, panting as his fight to get free only serves to tire him out. “See? Give us an hour to relax him, and he’ll be as hungry as any of the other guests.”

“Then you can be the first to test that out,” the faked-African says as Chris hears him walk away, Chris yelling out a curse at the implication he’d give in to these assholes. There are more jeers and cheers from the others, others apparently coming nearby and starting to pleasure themselves as Chris renews his struggles, the Australian man pulling out his fingers as he instead pushes in his cock, getting Chris to let out more curses and to try to move as far forward as he can, the man pulling him back using the short handcuffs as a hold before saying, “Oh, God, for someone who took three fingers in their ass, you sure are tight, whore.”

Chris’ “fuck you” is obvious understood by some of the men, who seem to find the whole thing too funny as the Australian man begins to move, his pace hard and erratic as his other hand going to grab Chris’ wrist. Chris doesn’t waste time, bending his hands enough to grab what feels like a pinky and ring finger before he bends them in a way they shouldn’t go, hearing the Australian’s high-pitched scream of pain as the fingers pop before others manage to get him to let go, more than a few yelling something in their own language and the laughter obviously stopped from the fact that Chris was not about to let him simply fuck him until Wesker came to get him in exchange for supposed ‘others’.

One of the other men picks up where the hurt and still-screaming Australian does, this time grabbing Chris’ shoulder and wrist before pushing him further forward, making him too off-balance to do anything but yell through his gag as the man pushes deeply into Chris’ ass, pace fast and hard as Chris curses and moans at the pain. There’s nothing about it that brings him pleasure, and his body responds to the whole thing like some sort of invasion, as if now in concert with his mind as it fights against the possibility of more rape.

_Where was this when Wesker was raping me?_

Chris doesn’t bother to consider it as he feels the man push into him once more, cum going in, and a few men laughing about something that Chris finally hears in English as one of them says, “He ain’t even hard. Even that last bitch we got was wet by now.”

 _Of course his employees are rapists assholes who are only satisfied by prisoners to fuck._ One of the men pulls him up by the shoulder, Chris trying to get away as the man held Chris up, an arm wrapped around his torso before he begins to painfully jack Chris off, Chris letting out a yell of pain and anger as he pushed away and fought, the man cheering the other on for a moment until they, and Chris, seemed to notice that nothing was going on with his cock. It was still flaccid and not responding to the painful stimulation, though Chris couldn’t see their reactions, he could feel it. The man holding him let out a growl of frustration as he pushed Chris away, Chris hitting a table and folding over as another man pulled him back up by his neck, the tight grip making it hard for Chris to breath, the sound of cheering meaning the men apparently had a better way to ‘use’ Chris then as their fuck-toy.

=

The four-man group of BSAA agents are easy enough to lure into the older area of the compound, and obviously are trained well enough to make it far enough to confront Wesker without much general bruising or attacks. He smirks when he sees one of them, blonde and so young, balk, shaking as he sees the ripped tactical vest that belonged to Chris in Wesker’s hand.

There’s always one weak link, and Wesker can see the others are equally shaken, obviously trying to remind their training. Still, the time it took them to pick up on Chris’ signal and get here is troubling, though no more so than their failed training.

 _Pathetic._ Even faced with the inelegant Cerebus or the other ‘BOW’ in the mansion, Chris didn’t lose his cool, ensuring his teammates were safe before himself, even that holdover Beta team member, Chambers. Chris had _laughed at Wesker_ and challenged Tyrant – at the time the best creation of Umbrella and Wesker’s research – and then continued to face Wesker down. Even when he had fallen to begging for mercy as he was taken by Wesker, he’d still threatened Wesker, a threat that Wesker actually felt he should take seriously. After all, Chris has been the only one to even get close to killing him. Even Sergi and the Red Queen had been no match for Wesker, but _Chris Redfield_ …silly, dull, unintelligent, _human_ Chris Redfield…had gotten so much closer. If not for the Prototype virus and the soon-to-be Uroboros, Wesker would be another casualty of the mess Umbrella had been creating through the way they handled things.

He’d be another dead Wesker child, the legacy of that old man and his wish for immortality, instead of the one who would bring about a new world.

“Where is he, you bastard?” the young blonde one yelled, raising his gun and getting Wesker to smirk as he dropped the torn jacket. It would have been a better effect if there was some blood on it, he thinks, but instead he’s silent, judging them as one of them tries to calm down the other man, muttering something that Wesker barely picks up on before one of them attempts to go at him.

Oh, their training is based off the STARS original training. Good.

_That will make this easier._

=

No one approaches Chris after the semi-brutal beating and near-gang-rape – apparently the three other guys who were cocky enough to try to make him their blow-doll were still sporting the teeth marks and, in one’s case, still bleeding, and that ruined the fun as much as Chris’ inability to perform did.

In a way, that’s almost worse than when he was being thrown around and jeered at, because he was hard all throughout that first rape, but now….

He vaguely remembers the beating and screams from the men who’d tried to shove cocks down his throat, heard them say to simply ‘leave him’, and he’d been shoved onto a chair, rope or something similar going around his ankles and chest to hold him into place before he was left somewhere that seemed to have no sound. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in this isolated area, only that the moment he wasn’t being beaten, moved, or raped, his body stopped really responding to his demands, and seemed to barely give him any input.

 Chris’ head was ringing from the beating, and the only sound he could hear being the tinnitus from it. But from the outside group, there was no loud sound, and even when he tried to move or tip over his chair before the drug’s effects took hold again, he found it secured firmly to the ground, at least enough so that his weakened body couldn’t move it.

At least wasn’t being manhandled or taken by Wesker’s men and their probably huge list of diseases and viruses, but at the same time, the drug was making his mind wander through his memories of his capture and rape, or further back to the other times he’d faced Wesker and been beaten, or had to try to fight him, only to lose and have Wesker escape death. It gives Chris too much time to realize how much of an idiot he’s been since his last encounter with Wesker, and the ones before that. It was his choice to come alone on this mission, to not call for back-up when the merest _hint_ of Wesker showed up, and it meant that if he got out of this, he was probably going to be benched until their superiors got him in to see someone or something.

 _Not happening_. Taking him out of the game to talk about his feelings, to evaluate him and just put him behind some desk wasn’t going to help anyone. He’d heard of some good being done, but all of it was by others who’d been there for the first few outbreaks – the few from STARS that managed to survive both the mansion _and_ Raccoon City, or others who had joined after one event or another from escaped BOW. The groups of kids he’s training are all already hardened in their own ways, but a few of them are there for the world-travels or ability to get wealth – and they all know the dangers.

Because of wherever he is, not to mention the drug’s effects, Chris is unaware of the new arrivals until his chair is pulled back, turned, and hauled forward enough to jar his body and, thus, wake up his mind to things. The chair legs scraping loudly and he hears the return of the jeers and cheers from the guards, hears someone say something about the ‘new catches’ and bets being made of who they are, how many, and of what type. A cold sweat runs down Chris’ spine at the muddled words, fear at the lost hours here, not to mention what the guard’s talk could mean, bringing up his old doubts.

_Fuck!_

Someone, or a group, got caught, and that means that he’s only here because he’s about to be returned to Wesker. Chris lets out a yell of annoyance, grateful for his voice despite the rocking motions that require him to focus, right before he hears someone call his last name, a few others letting out gasps. Chris stills, recognizing the voice, and instantly a new fear creeps into his thoughts.

 _Marks…then…_ shit, _no!_

“Chris,” his name comes out as a purr from nearby, getting Chris to try to regulate his breathing as Wesker’s boots echo in the guard’s room, “I think you should properly welcome your rescue team.” Wesker pulls off the blindfold, Chris blinking at the sudden change in lighting and ducking his head as he struggles to move away from Wesker, the chair nearly falling backwards in his attempt but for Wesker’s grip on it, tilting it slightly back before pushing it up and moving to one side, allowing him a full view of his men. Zane Marks and Hosea Little are two men that Chris had trained, the young men having survived a BOW outbreak near their home and managed to rally who they could to help the few survivors escape. Zane is like Chris was in the past – tall, short hair in a military crew cut, and piercing dark eyes as opposed to Chris’ blue ones – but his face is different, more handsome, and clean-cut instead of the stubble that Chris always manages before the military regulations kick into his mind and he has to shave it all off. His hair is also far closer to a blonde color than Chris’ ever would be, not without the benefit of dye.

Hosea is different, with his curly dark hair and darker eyes, but no other features showing his Hebrew lineage, or the half-lineage he got from his mother’s side. He appeared worried for Chris, but also aware of the dangers as his eyes darted around towards the other men and especially to Wesker. The other two men Chris only knew from reputation – Hawkins was a strict professional, grizzled and ruggedly handsome in his own way, and Ramiro looked like he should be straight out of Zapata’s army, mustache and all.

Right now all four of them were handcuffed like he’d been, but all four were also at least in clothing – he was naked and covered in bruises, ass still burning from the abuse he’d suffered – and now Wesker cast a glance at them before looking back at Chris, reaching to run his thumb along near Chris’ upper lip and to pull the gag slightly, but not completely out.

“What’s the matter, Chris? Shouldn’t you be welcoming your saviors?” The guards laugh at that, Chris glaring at Wesker as the other man smirks at him, obviously relishing in his power over Chris and the others. This was always a possibility, but Chris never wanted them to be in any sort of danger, especially not from Wesker or his men. It would be red in Wesker’s already blood-soaked ledger, but also more dead friends and colleagues that Chris would have to answer for. That they were trapped here with him, with Wesker and his men, was _Chris’ fault_.

He’d misjudged, and now those others would pay for it.

Wesker shifts, moving to pull Chris’ head back, getting him to realize just how short the back of the chair he’s tied to is as his back bows with the pull. Wesker forces Chris to look at him as the captured men are stuck, waiting, while the guards look on lustfully, obviously salivating at the idea of getting the four new men to rape. Wesker was once more wearing his dark clothing, the trousers tight enough to show the outline of his erection as Wesker said, “You’ve been so vocal before…why not speak now? The blonde one seems particularly taken with you.” Chris continues to glares at Wesker as he lets go of Chris head, letting him sit up and look back at the four, trying to convey an apology for being such an idiot and getting them into this situation. Zane looks upset by it, as if the thought of Chris apologizing for them being here and in such danger is not something he should think about, and Hosea seems resigned but not about to accept that apology, his own, weak glare saying that he obviously takes responsibility for this instead of Chris. The other two are equally indignant at Chris’ attempt at a silent apology, though Hawkins looks a little unnerved by the amount of guards in the room.

Wesker thumb goes back to where the gag is, pulling it from Chris mouth and leaving it to dangle along his neck, like a loose collar, as Wesker grips his jaw painfully, tilting his head up so he can now glare at Wesker, who’s obviously pleased with himself and his ‘catch’, as well as what it’s doing to Chris. “I heard you were giving my men trouble. That you put four into the medical wing when they tried to use your mouth.” Wesker’s other hand tracing Chris’ lips and smirking as Chris tries to move away, the grip too strong to allow him any sort of movement. Wesker seems to find Chris’ continue resistance something to smile about, as he moves a hand to his trousers, palming his erection as Chris glares at him, humiliation already coming up at the thought of what might happen if he allows this. The others’ lives are on the line – when it was just Chris, he was fine with doing what he could to defend himself, consequences be damned, but now? Now there are others he’s responsible for.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Chris, slowly grinding,” Wesker says, reaching up to run his hand up into Chris’ hair, the grip on his jaw remaining steady as Wesker pats him, like some sort of dog. “If you don’t fight me in this, I’m going to assume I don’t have your attention. I _do_ have your attention, don’t I?”

Chris glares at him, still silent. The hand on his jaw goes to his throat, lifting him easily, chair and all, as Zane yells out. The moment Zane yells and fights, Wesker drops Chris, sending him crashing to one side, the bruises and jarring change from choked to being on the floor sideways making Chris cough before he sees Wesker holding Zane off the ground, everyone silent as Zane struggles, unable to lift up his hands, cuffed as they were, to try to relieve the pressure as Wesker squeezed the life out of him.

“Wesker!” Chris yells, or tries to, his call coming out more like a croak as he pushes, trying to fight, finally yelling, “Don’t you dare, you fucking bastard! I’ll kill you!”

“Too little, too late, Chris,” Wesker says, Zane’s struggles growing weak before he’s dropped, also coughing as he draws in breath. Wesker watches him before kicking him hard, sending the younger man up with the force and causing the other three to try to come to his rescue, stopped by the guns against their heads as Zane lands back on the ground, groaning but alive, at least for now. Wesker glances at Chris, apparently upset by his look still on Zane, if the fact that he’s once more facing Wesker with a hand on his throat is any indication.

“I thought I explained this to you, Chris. Or do I not have your attention?”

“b-bas-tard-l-let-m-me-go,” Chris manages to choke out, the answer getting Wesker to tilt his head, as if listening as Chris feels the added weight start to pull on his neck, the tight restraint keeping him from falling or breathing as he stops his movement, focusing on trying to stay awake before Wesker once more drops him. This time the chair staying upright, Chris’ attempt to pull in air being the only reason he doesn’t see Wesker move to the side, not until he turns Chris head painfully to shove his freed cock down Chris’ throat.

Chris chokes on it, his instinct to bite down starting right before Wesker grabs his jaw, the pressure holding it open as he keeps it there, Chris struggling to pull in breath and curse as Wesker commands, “Take them.”

Chris barely manages to look over, seeing two of the guards roughly pick up the struggling and dazed Zane as Hosea calls for him, the other man doing his best to fight back as he’s shoved over the side of a couch nearby while the other two are taken further back, out of Chris’ line of sight though both let out cries of pain that seem to indicate they aren’t being made to suck dick like Chris is.

Wesker begins to move at that, his pace as quick as when he’d violated Chris before, the hand on his jaw powerful enough to hold him still as Chris does his best to fight, to pull back or change the angle and use it to his advantage to cause Wesker more pain then pleasure. However, the hold is too tight for him to do more than just try, and the pain when he squeezes nearly causes Chris to cry out around the meaty cock in his mouth. Between the pain the humiliation of being violated in front of his men right before their own violation, and the lack of air from having a cock go down his throat, Wesker pushing it in deep enough to nearly get Chris to choke more than once, he doesn’t realize what’s going on until he feels someone land on his lap, a guard saying darkly, “You want a taste of your supervisor’s cock?” before he feels someone’s hot, panting breath along his flaccid cock. Chris panics at that, Wesker seeming to figure it out enough to stop his assault and instead pull out, letting go of Chris’ jaw in favor of using one hand, slick with Wesker’s own pre-cum, to pull at Chris cock while the other teases Chris’ nipples and chest.

“You piece of shit bastards, let him go!” Chris yells as the guard grabs the still-dazed Zane, shoving his mouth down on Chris’ half-hard cock and forcing it to bob as Chris starts to curse at the undeniably pleasurable sensation. Wesker’s hand keeps Zane from taking it all whole, and the pressure and feel of Wesker’s soft glove, not to mention the hot breath and slickness from Zane’s mouth gets Chris to involuntarily let out a groan of pleasure, his mind rebelling at what was happening. No, he can’t be used as some sort of instrument for Zane’s torture too! He won’t!

Wesker straightens from where he’d been leaning over to ‘help’ Zane, the cum-coated hand going to Chris cheek as the other ones goes back to his jaw. Just as Chris began to curse them again, Wesker turns Chis’ head and shoves his own cock back down Chris’ throat, forcing him to deep-throat it again. The inhuman thing keeps it there as Chris shifts and struggles to breathe, the pleasure from Zane being raped on Chris’ dick getting Chris’ hips to react involuntarily, jerking upwards. Chris doesn’t quite realize what was happening until he hears Zane choke himself on the sudden deepthroating that Chris had given him as well. Wesker’s laugh fills Chris with anger and shame, his inability to control his body’s actions having caused someone else to get hurt.

“He seems to like that,” Wesker’s taunting voice makes the guard laugh, Chris trying to yell at them but unable to as Wesker begins to fuck his face, the pace as steady and hard as the beginning when he took Chris’ ass, giving Chris hardly any time to fight back or even think, his body and mind too focused on the need for air, as well as the pleasure/pain signals it was getting. Some part of his mind was confused and angry at his body, for giving in when Wesker touched him when he’d managed to fight off and not respond to the guards when they were attacking him and trying to fuck him.

He hears Zane choke again as he’s pushed down onto Chris’ cock, feels the instinctive swallowing motion around his own cock and ends up moaning around Wesker’s cock in response. Chris closes his eyes, not wanting to watch this, but the earlier sensory-deprivation makes that hard, his skin now far more sensitive as Zane continues to bob up and down, head forced down as Chris’ body rejects his mind’s attempt to control it, instead going on instinct and jerking up and into the wet, warm hole.

Wesker doesn’t laugh, instead pulling out his cock and slapping Chris hard, forcing Chris to open his eyes at the pain, seeing Hosea being taken by two men, one on each end, as another jerked off over his back. The other two are further in but Chris can now see them, one being fucked over a table by three men, the other either unconscious or gagged as he’s fucked mercilessly over another table, the jerking seeming to signal how close the guard is to coming. Wesker’s hand forces Chris’ head, and thus his eyes, back to the shade-covered eyes of his former commander as he begins to pant at the buildup of pleasure.

“Don’t look away from this, Chris. What did I _just_ say about attention?”

“f-fuck you…” Chris manages to pant out, the air allowing him to think straight for a moment before Wesker pulls Chris’ head forward, back onto Wesker’s pale cock. This time Chris manages a brief bite, the hold on the side of his head instead of against his jaw, but Wesker only laughs at that, pulling out to readjust his hold back to Chris jaw, looking down with a smirk at his glare, before going back to fucking his mouth. Zane lets out his own moan around Chris cock, Chris seeing that the guard had pulled down Zane’s trousers, using Zane’s own belt to redden the younger man’s ass with light slaps. Wesker’s two hands were now being used to hold both Chris and Zane, forcing them both to suck cock as Wesker lets out a groan, speeding up his thrusts as Chris feels his own body begin to do the same, the sounds that Zane made with each hit on his reddening ass and the motion that Wesker is forcing him to do only serving to make Chris’ body react as well, hips jerking up to meet Zane’s mouth as it goes down on him.

Wesker’s pace picks as Chris’ groans from the pleasure starts to peak, Zane’s own sounds almost turning to similar moans. Chris glances over and sees the guard had stopped hitting him, instead working his fingers expertly into Zane, each movement getting Zane to moan and start to push his hips back on them. The guard is starting to push faster and harder into Zane, the younger man shaking as he gets closer to release, starting to suck Chris’ cock instead of being choked by it. Chris feels himself blush at the realization even as Wesker’s pace becomes almost brutal, as Chris feels the pressure building up, his hips shaking and losing their rhythm right before he lets out a muffled yell, cumming down Zane’s throat. The younger man groans as well, choking a bit on the cum before he’s pulled off, some of it getting on his face before Zane lets out his own yell of surprise, impaled deep on the guard’s dick as he begins to pump in and out of him, pulling him away from the other two. Chris’ attention goes back to Wesker the moment he feels the sudden jerking sensation, Wesker letting out a satisfied yell before pushing in again, cumming down Chris’ throat.

Chris barely manages to cough most of it back up, some going down his throat simply because it hit the back of it or when he finally managed to take in a deep breath. Chris spits the rest at Wesker as he laughs, moving to pull apart the ropes holding Chris and picking him up easily, pulling him out towards the door as the guards continue around them. Chris glares at him, shame and humiliation warring through him as Wesker holds him, the smirk on his face as he locks glowing eyes with Chris’ blue ones.

“Time for some privacy, Chris, and the real training to begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course when I tried to make something with multiple others and Chris but no Wesker, the bunnies who were intrigued by the porn run away and hide...  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesker tries a new approach to breaking Chris.

When Wesker had first heard of the idea that his subordinates had about Chris Redfield, he’d thought it’d been a joke. Chris was responsible for most of his setbacks, for an invaluable amount of research lost in his bumbling and his attempts to make Wesker ‘pay’ for the deaths that happened to the lesser men. Despite what Lenka, his right-hand man in the South African bases, might have tried to convince Wesker about gods and how Wesker could act, that they picked _Chris_ of all ones made no sense until Wesker seriously considered the choice.

It had been _his Alpha team_ who’d managed to go through the mansion with minimal casualties, though of course they’d also figured out his plans…well, some of his plans. It had been the STARS members under his command that had survived Raccoon City, along with the few other lucky ones who had barely managed to escape that city. It had been STARS members who formed the BSAA that was now the thorn in his side, and who would just as easily turn in their own financiers than deal with the same troublesome issues that Umbrella had once waded through.

It had also been Chris Redfield, his former Point man, who’d fought back against everything Wesker threw at him, and survived. Chris, who had come to find and save his beloved sister and ended up being the first – the only person – to ever hit him hard enough to knock off his glasses. Even when Wesker had been semi-serious about killing Chris, he’d managed to still fight and defeat him, or at least push his work back by more years with the defeat of Alexia and other important subjects. Even now, when Chris was obviously being trained to take down Wesker and not being cared for in any other way, his determination and fight had not only gotten him to Wesker’s doorstep and into his current predicament. Still, he fought the drug and had even fought Wesker’s men when his strength wasn’t at its peak – breaking fingers and biting cocks in an attempt to prove he wasn’t about to be dominated unless it was by the strongest, or perhaps the drug was reacting to Wesker’s unique virus – he had no idea. Chris’ anger and continued fealty to those too weak to survive the mansion and its testing ground was an annoyance, yes, but Wesker supposed he should have anticipated it.  

Jill had come from Delta Force in the Army, Barry was a family man who showed his loyalty even when they were threatened, but Chris? Chris had fought every commanding officer, military or otherwise, who sought to get him into shape. Every order had to be given far more directly, and with every possibility that he’d disobey on principle or because he felt the reasoning was wrong. But until the reveal of Tyrant, the knowledge that Wesker worked for Umbrella, and all the rest, Chris followed _Wesker’s_ orders _perfectly._ If he didn’t, he at least improvised depending on the situation, but he had overall done everything Wesker said, and hadn’t given him lip for it. A few more years in STARS, without the outbreak and issues from Umbrella’s stable of geniuses and back-stabbers, and Chris would not have rebelled quite so spectacularly, Wesker thinks. No, if he’d played it right, or if Enrico had been good enough to die instead of having to live long enough to mention a ‘mole’, than things might have been easier over the years, and Wesker would have far more data.

As they get into the underground train car, Wesker puts Chris, still fighting, down on a medical bed with restraints. It’s a small car – not much is supposed to be moved, but between Chris and the four BSAA members, Wesker has an idea that Chris will probably try to escape his clutches the moment the drug is out of his system, or more BSAA members will come looking for the one who could potentially defeat Wesker. The temptation to draw blood and see what type of antibodies are floating around in there – if the older forms of t-virus antibodies or even g-virus ones are still there – comes back briefly as Wesker moves quickly to restrain Chris’ hands too, the younger man cursing and shaking his head, apparently attempting to keep himself moving so his mind isn’t trapped again.

The drug had been given to some of the prisoners and locals they’d found and used as guinea pigs for their experiments, or to placate the insatiable appetites of the guards, and he’d only heard of those who go a little mad with the need for stimulation, not realizing when the drug wore off and the pain overcame their senses, making it _seem_ like they needed to have that stimulation to continue to move or even see things in the world. Wesker wonders if there’s more to it than that, with what seems to be happening with Chris implying that the drug either was a variant – which would be unusual, as Wesker knew all of the programs being done under his watch – or that the Prototype virus, and Chris’ heightened immunity to every other virus thus-far created, had reacted in an unusual way to the drug. He’d speak to his second, Lenka, and see if there was any sort of possibility of this that the man hadn’t meticulously recorded in his notes somewhere.

Chris had fought whatever he viewed as the enemy, even if the BOW was the best of the bunch, either on his own or with one or two people as backup. This drug was one that had managed to keep him down and out for the time being, and would continue that way no matter what Chris tried. Even if he kept trying it, Wesker was more impressed by Chris’ inability to stay down, his determination to fight anything that came up against him was both annoying and fascinating. What he had liked more was that brief moment, when he’d first taken Chris with Lenka’s help, and Chris had simply begged to be let go.

Chris had gone right back to threats, to trying to deny his arousal at the act, or that he’d once more submitted to the one authority figure he was fine with submitting to…

Wesker can’t wait for that moment again. Chris had never been easy with his superiors, especially if he disagreed with something they said, or if they did something that he, personally, disliked. Wesker had been the only one that had managed to gain Chris’ admiration and total loyalty in all things before the Spenser Mansion. It was because of that, he suspects at least, that his ‘betrayal’ of STARS Bravo team, as well as leading Alpha team, was the one point that Chris always held against him. Even if Chris knew that Umbrella owned STARS, and that at one point they’d test them out on the monsters had the train now been taken, or the virus gotten out, it was still easier to blame the one he knew and viewed as a traitor.

The small train car would be cramped, but Wesker enjoys riding in style, and equally enjoys his time working on the files he’s gained, to look over the reports and muse on his next action. He wants to try to take Chris again, or to see what type of a rise he can get out of him, and he has the perfect place to put him for the meantime. In the space as well is a medical table, used mostly for securing specimens or anything else that Wesker wants to look at or move between bases. Some of the higher-value BOWs were well worth the trip, and more than a few were too unstable for combat purposes when the BSAA or Chris and his little bands came along to ruin his fun. So far, despite the lack of movement beyond some minor jostling to ensure Chris didn’t hit a wall or the door, Chris was beginning to fall back into his mind again, and Wesker wanted to see exactly how little one had to do in order to maintain even a modicum of awareness. Lenka _might_ know, but Wesker liked the idea of seeing exactly how far he could push Chris until he broke a little, even if it was just through arousing touches.

The medical table is not cold like the ones in a hospital would be – some of the BOWs and bodies he works with are far too heat-sensitive for that, and some require specialized covers in order to keep their light sensitivity down as well. He easily sits Chris down, noticing that he seems to be back into his mind somewhere, lost without the abuse or sexual touches that Wesker had denied him while getting the train set up and moving to the control panel of the bed. It had restraints that could easily be adjusted, and while there had been some changes to Chris’ bulk – courtesy of the BSAA training and some ‘safe’ enhanced drugs, no doubt – Wesker found himself easily able to conform it to what he required. He moved back to where Chris sat, taking the time to admire the bruises along Chris’ body, left from his fight against the guards, as well as the more prominent ones along his jawline, the ones that Wesker had put there.

He’d have to train Chris a bit more, Wesker thinks as he frowns. While the slight green discoloration is fine, the purples are not, and as much as Wesker wants to continue to play with Chris, he also has the sinking suspicion that the guards were a little too rough in their handling of Chris as their plaything. Luckily the medical table came with some state-of-the-art equipment, some that would easily help to heal Chris and give Wesker a way to examine him non-evasively first. Chris’ discomfort, his ability to fight back yet still give in to Wesker alone, was enough reason for Wesker to want to keep Chris around for a little longer.

Chris lets out a rather annoyed moan as he’s moved, as if he is somewhat aware of who is moving him, though not where. The restraints – set mostly along his upper arm, wrist, and ankles, do little but keep him still if he decides to move around during the inspection. The medical table gives out a quiet hum as it scans Chris quickly, the calibration for a Human far easier to look over than anything for some of the BOWs he’d bred, and he’s happy to see that the bruising is mostly just that – bruises, not anything to further complicate things. Wesker will have to draw blood before the time period is up, if only to see what effect the antibodies have on the drug, let alone what it’s had on Chris. For now, though, he’ll simply have to play a bit with Chris.

The thought, a strange one to Wesker, get him to frown before he simply slaps Chris, seeing what sort of reaction that gets from the other man, as well as himself. It’s odd, but he finds no pleasure in the action, nor in Chris’ pained groan, his eyes regaining some focus before they once more gaze over. Wesker feels like the whole experiment was pointless – like some of Umbrella’s choices, or other experiments that ended up making retrieval of data simply harder than it already was. There was no reason to discipline Chris in that way, at least not yet, and the experiment itself does nothing for either of them.

He waits as the green herb is applied, the weed-like grass having started to pop up in more and more places as Umbrella’s operations shut down and the chaos that began because of it. The mechanical work doesn’t seem to wake Chris up, making Wesker smirk a little as he reaches and begins to slightly rub along Chris’ bandaged abs, stopping only when the train’s controls rang, demanding his attention. He would have to work on Chris’ response and what else he could gleam from the earlier reports, as well as the medical readouts, later. Wesker needed to speak to Lenka before the man went to try and claim one of the four BSAA men, or to oversee the removal of their more sensitive equipment for when _more_ BSAA members came to find their missing comrades. It was annoying – those four could easily be used for some of the experiments he was getting from the other companies who needed his expertise – but having Chris was, by far, his best catch for the whole of the experiments. After all, he had as much resistance to many of the viruses as the other members of STARS that survived the mansion and Raccoon City, but at least with Chris, he could have some fun.

Wesker recalls that Tricell had sent them a gift, as a way to show their willingness to work with the Uroboros and to help Wesker prove his ability. Excella Gionne believes herself worthy of his attention and time, and while her company is a good one, with enough resources for Wesker to use for his needs, her obsession with him is annoying, despite its usefulness.

“We’ll have to see how this works then,” he mutters to himself, looking back at Chris with a smile.

=

Chris can’t move, and while before, the entrapment meant that he wasn’t being raped or groped or overall harmed, now the lack of stimulation worried Chris. He was with Wesker on some sort of private train-car, and beyond having a feeling that he was lying down and strapped into something, Chris can’t figure out where he is, how long he’s been like this, or what Wesker is doing. At least when he was being violated, he could keep his mind active, but now he was starting to wish for Wesker to do…something.

Chris did his best to squash that thought, to bury it as far away as he could. Wesker had said the drug he used was going to keep him like this for eight hours, and so far, Chris had no idea how long it has been between his capture and the failed rescue attempt. He can guess – given how far away the nearest base was, not to mention the commander’s continued watchfulness over Chris for all things as Wesker’s bases were found and destroyed, as well as how long it’d taken him to get to the base he’d been captured at, it had probably been about three or four hours.

 _Ok, so I just have to face four, five more hours of this. I can do this. I_ have _to do this._

Chris can do little but try to keep himself focused, do his best to focus despite there being nothing for him. All he can do is try to focus on…something, _anything_ , but without that – with only the barest hint of stimulation from something cold touching him, and Chris felt like he spent far too long trying to figure out if it was Wesker or someone else. He doubts that Wesker will allow someone else to manhandle Chris enough to get him awake, and he finds himself caught up in his own thoughts, his own memories and anger at his idiocy.

He’d gone in without backup, what the hell was he thinking? Now he was at Wesker’s mercy, without any way to escape until the four hours was up, and suddenly, his brain went back to something he’d read, something about sensory deprivation creating hallucinations and other negative side effects. That it made people more susceptible to being brainwashed…

 _No! Don’t focus on that, focus on_ escape _, you idiot!_

What escape? He wasn’t able to move, and he knows Wesker well enough to guess he’ll plan for when Chris is back to himself, back to his full facilities.

 _Wesker is a fucking egotistical maniac who_ thinks _you’re just some tool! He only thinks of you as a guinea pig, as a means to an end! He hates you for messing up his precious data and the monsters he creates. You_ really _think he won’t mess up? He won’t just think that he has you cowed and submissive before he leaves you an opening?_

That was the problem – Chris had to hope that his luck would hold out and Wesker _was_ sloppy. He also has to hope that wherever Wesker was taking him, it was in the same base, not a new one. If it was, Chris would have to hope he could escape and find his way back.

_Then what?_

The cold feeling touched him again, and Chris tried to focus on that, to figure out what it was. Cold, but not like Wesker’s inhuman skin when he’d been holding him, _raping him_ , forcing…

_THINK!_

The cold feeling is metal, something applying what feels like the herb they’d found all the way back in the Arkay mountains. The coldness isn’t everywhere, though, but the hard metal is, and the touch and movement, along with what felt like small pinches along his skin, is enough to get him to focus enough to look around.

He was tied to a medical bed, the pinching a small blood-draw that gets him to shudder in fear. His arms and legs were tied down, and the drug made it hard to really focus for long as Chris did his best to focus on the brief, cold touches from the machine working on healing him and taking some sort of reading. He sees Wesker looking over some sort of controls – he can’t focus enough to see more, and he briefly hears Wesker’s sinister laugh and the odd tone he spoke in, though Chris’ focus was not good enough for him to understand what he was saying. The feeling of coldness disappears, even as his ability to focus does, and Chris once more curses himself as he tries to figure out something else. The lack of stimulation is beginning to make him worried, the sudden need for any sort of touch or movement on his body getting Chris to recoil from his own mind in disgust. He could hold out against Wesker and his drug. He could fight this and _beat it_. There was no reason for him to give in for something so stupid as this, and he certainly wasn’t about to give Wesker the satisfaction of hearing him beg again.

_Never again. I’m not going to do it again, no way._

The lack of awareness this time is worse, if only because he now knows a bit more of his situation now. The possibility that Wesker could use the table he was on to do a lot to Chris, though he doubts that’s what Wesker is planning on doing at the moment. He wants _data_ , and the actual taking people apart doesn’t usually happen until after that data had a baseline to go against. He can’t think that Wesker won’t do something else to Chris, test out that drug of his a bit more before he goes into something worse for Chris. That means that Chris _has_ to focus, _has_ to be ready to escape the moment he sees an out. If he doesn’t get away before whatever plan Wesker has for him goes through, he’ll possibly just end up as some sort of monster – a monster that others who have been trained by Chris, or that one of the old partners will have to put down.

The next thing Chris feels is something odd, cold but not like Wesker’s skin. It’s not like any sort of skin actually – it feels more like some sort of solid something, with bits of rubber along it or something else that Chris has no way of describing. The things, like fingers, move along his skin lightly in an undulating movement that reminds Chris of a snake’s movement, but more like…liquid being swallowed or something strange like that. He mutters when something briefly touches his nipples, slowly seeming to trace along it before what feels like another one comes up, pinching and twisting slightly as others begin to move along his body. Another, strange sensation, like a lube-filled fleshlight, moves along his flaccid penis. He pants at the weird sensation as his mind begins to return, hearing Wesker’s voice again, though Chris can’t tell what he’s saying. His focus is on and off, despite the continued strange movement and touches.

Chris’ focus sharpens as something touches and starts to move around his neck, wrapping around it slowly as he sees what looks like some sort of dark, disgusting lattice work above him, sickly yellow pustules of what looks like liquid or something else in them. One is down, near his chin, and Chris’ mind finally catches up with what he’s seeing as his jaw clenches shut, stopping the questing tentacle from moving into mouth, the others finally allowing him to see the thing that was touching him, the thing down near his penis making him limp again as he sees that it is like a fleshlight, but the same sickly yellow as the round things above him, the lube-liquid thing almost tingling in a way that should feel good, that his body was fighting with his mind. He couldn’t let something like that make him hard! He wasn’t about to let himself get turned on by something like that!

“I’m glad to see your with us,” Wesker’s voice gets Chris to look over, glaring at the man as the tentacle near his mouth keeps pushing to try to get in, tracing along his lips and pushing briefly against his gritted teeth. “I’m sure you know that a few others want my expertise on their creations, and I’ve gotten one particularly enthusiastic lady trying to get my attention, and so she sent some interesting specimens for me to examine.” The tentacle around Chris neck tightens briefly, as if trying to cut off his air and get him to open his mouth. Chris does his best to try to remain calm, even as he sees Wesker stalking around the table, watching with some fascination, before finally glancing back over at Chris’ cock, which barely twitched as more of the mass moved down from the metal frame it was on, some trying to rub along his thighs and legs, others up and caressing his hips.

The tentacle choking him didn’t let up, Chris beginning to see black around the edges of his vision before a new sensation gets his mouth to part only briefly, enough for the tentacle to push in. Chris tries to bite down, disgust washing over him at the feel of it and the way it moves about with his mouth, exploring and seeming to trace along his tongue. He struggles weakly, the medical bed’s restraints keeping him still as the thing keeps up, attempting to get further in before slowly backing out…like the sensation he’s feeling around his cock.

Chris’ eyes dart down, seeing Wesker’s gloved hand slowly pull lightly on his penis, the fleshlight-thing moving and spilling a bit more of the pus-yellow liquid on him as Wesker uses that for lube, apparently not caring about the stains on his gloves, and Chris’ body…reacts.

_Stop! Stop, no, not with him!_

His body isn’t listening like it did before, his cock growing hard quickly under Wesker’s hands as he watches, fascinated, before smirking over at Chris, the same way he used to when they came across or heard some interesting or incriminating evidence on accident.

Back when Wesker was his superior officer, his captain, the one—

 _Stop! He’s not that anymore! He was_ never _that! He was always Umbrella’s puppet and now your body is just acting like that because he_ feels and looks _human when he_ isn’t! _Get a grip!_ FIGHT!

“Perhaps you enjoy my touch more than that of this experiment’s?” Wesker asks, continuing his slow and almost sensual movement along Chris’ cock, different than the time he’d jacked Chris off while that other guard had taken him. Chris moans around the tentacle that’s beginning to mimic Wesker’s motion, pushing in when Wesker moves his hand down, and pulling out as it goes up. Chris’ teeth can’t even penetrate the weird flesh that the thing has, and the movement isn’t as solid and sure as Wesker’s, instead shifting like something being funneled or a snake moving. The tentacles teasing his nipples seem to favor pulling or sucking, and Chris sees one briefly turn out like a sucker before it latches onto his nipple, sucking hard as Chris tries to let out a yell but the tentacle in his mouth smothers it, getting Wesker to chuckle.

“You disliked it so much before you couldn’t even get hard, now you’re suddenly interested,” Wesker says, getting Chris to try to shake his head, finding the hold of both the table and the monstrous appendages keeping him from even being able to vehemently deny Wesker’s claims, seeing the blond man move to direct the fleshlight appendage down upon Chris.

Chris lets out a yell as it swallows him, the suction from it the same rolling feel as the one in his mouth, barley moving out from him but still shifting, as if it was getting ready to start pulsing liquid down Chris’ throat. Chris did his best to ignore the idea, to try to get his body to _listen_ to him, to stop the reactions and betrayal to Wesker and this thing, but the whole movement and feel, as unnatural as it was, still managed to get to all of his erogenous zones, and his stiff cock didn’t help as his body began to simply try to get off, to release the tension in him.

_No, not into this thing, not like this! No no no!_

Chris moaned in denial as Wesker watches, humming in what sounds like approval as Chris struggles weakly, mentally fighting as his body instead moves to try and get more pleasure from the unnatural thing moving above him, sucking him off as it pulses in his mouth, Chris shivering as the pleasure builds in him, his mind fighting back and trying to stop his body’s betrayal.

All that happens is he pushes up against the thing sucking down his cock, his moans muffled as the suckers and twisting tentacles pull at his nipples until the pleasure has turned painful, the one around his neck briefly tightening when Chris tries to once more bite down on it, failing to get it to move or stop it’s ungluing in time with the fleshlight’s movements.

The pressure built in his lower abdomen, signaling he was getting closer to release, and Chris could only shake his head weakly as he got closer to cumming. One of the tentacles around his thigh moved further up and around, briefly brushing against his balls and getting Chris’ hips to jerk up before it began to move further down. Chris lets out a cry of denial, his body tensing as it traces the entrance of his ass, teasing as the tentacle in his throat pushes deeper briefly. Chris chokes on the intrusion, body shuddering from the lack of oxygen and the continued over-stimulation before the thing pauses, as if it’s discovered something. The tentacle still far enough in to get Chris’ gag reflex to continue, coughing and gagging as his vision begins to go dark, the one down his throat moving further in while also squeezing tighter, the others on his body beginning to pull at him in a way that felt like they were trying to tear into him. Chris felt some of them being pulled quickly, violently, off of him as he tries to breathe, the feeling of the warm, wet thing around his cock disappearing before then the one around his neck being pried off and pulled out of his throat and mouth, getting Chris to cough and gasp as he turns away, nearly throwing up from the push and the smell of rot and decay. He sees the metal frame above him devoid of the weird monster that had been violating him. Chris sees Wesker nearby, holding the disintegrating mass as Chris did his best to try to regain control over his body again, to rally himself to fight. Wesker seems disgusted with the thing, a look Chris knew from the times Wesker had tossed out more than a few people who’d tried to advance to the Alpha team, or when Wesker’s pet projects ended up dead after what felt like a one-sided fight.

Wesker shakes his gloved hand clean of the rotting monster, pulling off his gloves to reveal his pale skin as he tossed them on the carcass, moving slowly back over as Chris struggles again, fighting waves of nausea and trying to swallow down the buildup of bile in his throat. Without the continued, near-painful and pleasure-filled stimulation, his mind and body are starting to get back into sync again, even though his cock is still throbbing for release and painfully hard. Chris glares weakly at him as he tries to get in more oxygen, seeing Wesker tilt his head and look over him, his head shifting only a little, to show his shift of focus. Chris heaves as he does his best to catch his breath, his throat hurting from both the final invasive push in, as well as the pressure that had choked him to nearly losing consciousness. He briefly sees something beeping to one side, and tries to move again, pulling weakly at the restraints and feeling pain spark at his wrists. A cold hand on one gets him to look up and see Wesker’s dark glasses watching him, his face unreadable as Chris does his best to fight back, weak as he feels.

“Hmmm,” is all Wesker says, looking at Chris for a long moment before glancing back up at Chris as he shakes his head weakly, as if trying to deny or fight whatever Wesker was going to do, regardless of good or bad intentions. Chris doesn’t want anything touching him, doesn’t want anything near him. He’ll take the darkness and inability to move then the shame and singing feeling of pain and pleasure. Wesker says nothing as he moves up, typing something into a computer to one side before reaching up to move the metal frame away. Chris pulls weakly at the bonds again, trying to move away and escape. He doesn’t care how far he gets, even if it’s only a few inches, but he _has to escape_.

“You’re being quiet again, Chris,” Wesker says lazily, as if seeing Chris being violated and nearly killed by a creation of his was uninteresting, “I’m not too surprised, though I must admit that was a rather strange reaction of it.” He continues to type and hums briefly as Chris moves his mouth, trying to curse at Wesker but only a croaking sound coming out, pain making Chris close his eyes and try to breathe in through his nose. Wesker watches him carefully, glancing back down at the computer readout and then back down at Chris wrists. Chris struggles to figure out what the hell Wesker is up to, fear of what the thing might have done to him making Chris struggle and shiver, weak still from the lack of oxygen as well as from the effects of the drug. He keeps waiting for the drug’s effects to come back, but instead he only feels that his skin is too sensitive, his nipples painfully hard, and his cock desperate for release but with nothing to give that to him.

Wesker continues to work, the bed he’s on seeming to hum briefly before it simply remains solid, not do anything that Chris is worried about. Wesker taps his finger against the side before moving away, picking up a tablet as Chris pants, groaning and struggling against the bonds as he tries to ignore his body’s conflicting signals, the need for release and the pain from some of his throat and chest making it hard to focus. He glances around and tries to find something to focus on, something so his mind isn’t on the feeling and what created it, Wesker’s part in it, or anything else that’s been happening. He only has a few hours left, and he _has to fight this_.

Chris’ throat hurts, and despite his attempt to focus on anything else – Wesker doing something that he can’t quite see, the area he’s in, anything else – his body is still too sensitive, and his cock is painfully hard, causing him to jerk his hips in an attempt at some sort of release, shame filling him each time. The painful need and the sensitivity only serve to remind him that he’s in that state because of a creature that Wesker put over him, that it had been when Wesker jerked him off that he’d become hard, and then—then –

His wrists, arms, and legs hurt, rubbed raw from Chris’ attempts to get free, and he lets out a groan of pain and frustration that’s far less a groan and more a sort of dying sound from his abused throat. He hears a drawer close before Wesker slowly walks back over, holding something down and away from Chris. The younger man glares at his former superior officer, still trying to get out of whatever feeling the thing had left in him.

“Let’s deal with your…inconvenience,” Wesker said, setting something further down the table, near Chris’ feet where he couldn’t quite see what it was, even when he tried to sit up, his body protesting the movement and only seeming to reawaken the pain it was feeling. Wesker moves to slowly rub his fingers around the head of Chris’ cock, getting him to let out a pained groan, his hips starting to jerk, hoping for sensation that can send him over, but the pressure not enough. He feels a push on the bottom of his shaft, getting Chris to look down and see Wesker putting something, like a string, and tying it to where the pressure built, but couldn’t be released.

“I would hate to simply let you off the hook so easy, Chris,” Wesker says, smirking as he reaches to get something else that Chris can’t see, though the sound of a cap opening gets Chris to panic, pulling again on his restraints in the vain hope of escaping them. Wesker chuckles as he presses something against Chris’ ass, the younger man shaking his head even as his body tenses at the intrusion, pain and pleasure rolling through him as Wesker firmly pushes the strange thing into him. It feels weird, almost egg-like, and that only serves to freak out Chris more, recalling some of the monsters he’d seen and the information of where they’d come from. The movement jostles the thing a little, but the restraints mostly keep him steady, and the moment it briefly brushes against Chris’ prostate, Chris lets out a hoarse cry, his cock jerking painfully but no release coming for him.

“There it is,” Wesker mutters, his fingers coming out as he smirks at Chris, holding a remote attached to a long, thin cord. “Now, let’s see about that training. We’ll start low for now.”

He clicks it on, the sound of something buzzing audible, right as the pleasure hits him in waves. Chris screams, his whole body jerking as it tries to escape the overstimulation, the huge amount of pleasure that’s now turned painful as his release builds but can’t find a place to go. He shakes his head as his body jerks, trying to both get away and stay near the source as it briefly diminishes before starting up again, pulling out another hoarse cry from Chris, his body bowing upwards briefly before falling back down, jerking and spasming as he shook his head, trying hard to catch his breath again as the pleasure continued to build, the painful reminder that he needed to cum but _couldn’t_ making his mind seem to fracture between wanting to escape, and wanting to do whatever it took to get that release.

“You seem to enjoy that,” Wesker’s voice seems too close, and Chris shakes his head, trying to deny it even as he groans in need. Another wave of pleasure and pain only serves to make him struggle more, panting as he hears Wesker say, “All you need to do is ask, and I’ll let you cum.”

Chris shakes his head again, as much as he wants to ask. What’s the harm in asking?

 _No, I’m not going to beg for something from_ him! _I’m not going to give him that inch!_

“So proud, even when so low, controlled only by base desires.” The brief touch on his cock, stroking lightly, makes Chris let out sounds he doesn’t want to admit to, the pain-pleasure sweeping over him right before another wave of pleasure shoots through him, getting him to struggle and fight against the restraints again before he collapses, panting from the excursion and the building fatigue. “Say ‘please’ and I’ll let you find your release, Chris.”

Chris whimpers at that, part of him want to do that, to please the one man he’d trusted with a command, to have him say what he needs so he can find relief. The rest of him rebels against that thought, against giving in to Wesker in _anything_ , but both are stopped by another wave of pleasure that has him letting out another hoarse cry. Wesker’s fingers stroke again, and the request is repeated verbatim at him, Chris trying to shake his head to deny it but conflicted, unable to think beyond the hate he feels to Wesker and the deeply ingrained, near-forgotten wish to please the man.

He vaguely sees Wesker lean closer to him, and Chris’ hate wins when he sees the red eye flash behind the dark shade, the reminder of all that had happened, that this isn’t the one he wanted to please. His mouth is dry, but Chris manages enough saliva to spit at the man, who only smirks at the defiance before squeezing a bit at the base of Chris’ cock, getting the other man to let out a cry of pain and frustration when it’s released, Wesker chuckling before saying, “Since you’re so determined to defy me, let me show you what happens then.” Chris isn’t prepared when Wesker’s lips move down to his nipples, sucking at them painfully before catching one in his teeth, pulling hard as his hand puts the vibrator’s controls down and pulls the cord at the base of Chris’s cock. The pain, right before his abused nipple is released and Wesker stands, causes Chris to come, but the pain associated with it only serves to deny him full release. The cum splats him hit on his chest, Wesker humming his approval as Chris lets out a raspy, panting, frustrated growl as Wesker once more runs a hand through his hair. Chris flinches from it, but with everything else, he’s too weak to really fight against it.

“Let’s see if you learn anything from this experience. Now…” Wesker leans down, turning Chris’ head so he can look at him, “I expect you to hold out until you either beg me to let you cum, or I _let you_.”

Chris barely managed to spit again, and Wesker only chuckled. “Let’s see how long this will take, then. We have time.”

The vibrator went on, higher this time, and Chris screamed again.

=

Without the Uroboros to stimulate him, but with his body still apparently in the same state as before he’d shot his load, Wesker finds that Chris is still the same stubborn man he’d so relished in having at his side, in gaining his trust and loyalty. He’s still stubborn in the face of the pleasure and pain he’s being given, as Wesker works to keep him on the edge as long as he can, serves only to fascinate and arouse Wesker. Chris has little control of his body now, and it’s obvious he’s near breaking from the combined effects of the drug, his rapes, and Wesker’s attention.

Chris doesn’t spit at him this time either, but he does shake his head, and his voice is still quieter, scratchier, than before. The medical bed’s scan said that the attack by the Uroboros prototype had resulted in a slightly damaged larynx and more bruising, this time to his chest and thighs from where the experiment had tightened around him. Chris’ attempts to escape had also left bruising and rubbed his skin raw around his wrists and the other areas currently tied down. Wesker debates, as he slowly toys with the vibrator again, getting Chris’ body to jerk and struggle as his cock, red and painful looking, bobs against his stomach. The cum from before has dried on Chris’ stomach and chest, and some small clamps now painfully hold onto Chris’ nipples, keeping them a cheerful red color even as they move a bit, causing more pain with the shifting and unwanted movement.

Seeing Chris so willing to endure, despite the easy way out offered to him, makes his curiosity at Lenka’s plan come back. There is probably something about the drug and his Prototype-enhanced fluids that Lenka feels should be explored, and it would also explain that whole talk about old gods and their consorts. It’s something he should look up – Spencer’s training never involved any sort of religious aspects, a fact that often caused issues in his STARS days, when some religious fanatics were attempting to call down divine judgment upon them, or when other scientists named their creations after words associated with what Wesker learned was the Greco-Roman pantheon. Spencer’s attitude, at least to Wesker, was always fully stuck in the Christian world, and it always confused him. Why seek to create the same world as the old one, why proclaim yourself a God based on the rules of the old world you sought to destroy? Well, he’d never get the answers out of Spencer unless he went back to him, and Wesker isn’t in the mood for it.

Chris lets out another moan of frustration and pain as he struggles against the restraints, the pleasure, and his own stubbornness keeping him from saying a simple word and gaining the release he needs. Wesker considers allowing him some release, if only because he’s struggling so hard to keep himself together, not realizing the point was to break.

_He’s been one to only bow as needed, but I’ve yet to see him break._

“You’re being too stubborn, Chris,” Wesker tells him as he slows the vibrator down, watching Chris’ chest heave as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes still showing the pain, pleasure, and anger that Wesker has started to expect from him. It makes him look lovely, and Wesker wonders how much lovelier he’ll look when he finally breaks, or appears to break. “One word, and all the pain will go away.”

Chris shakes his head weakly, still protesting and holding out despite his situation. Wesker chuckles, briefly teasing one of the clamps on his nipples as Chris groans, his whole body arching briefly as his voice, hoarse from the pain given to him from the Uroboros, tries to make out some sort of insult to Wesker.

 _“_ Well, you’ve given me enough data for what I need,” Wesker replies, seeing the brief, silent warning signal on the medical bench. Much more of this, and Chris’ physical health could be compromised, or at least he’d have to tend to him more than Wesker wanted. He had a few ideas now, and Lenka had given him a _fascinating_ link to something involving multiple, interesting ways to break Chris, or at least make him bow. However, Chris is getting near the edge that Wesker feels he can go without being completely broken, and as much as Wesker wants him to break, he doesn’t need him a mess to build back up. That would take too long, and Wesker only wanted to bring out the man that Chris should have become, rather than build up a new man altogether.

“You keep holding out like that, and you’re not going to like it,” Wesker says, continuing to play with the clamps and considering if he should also see how far Chris can shoot his wad this time. “I might let you go, but you’ll feel no pleasure from it. Is that really what you want?”

Chris doesn’t answer, panting as he tries to escape his bonds again and get away from Wesker, causing the older man to chuckle before he pulled on the clamp, getting Chris to jerk away before he pushes the vibrator on again, watching Chris jerk and moan. He considers that probably, the best end for Chris’ torment is for Wesker to simply see how long over-stimulation will work on the drug, but also he’s simply finished watching Chris fight like this. The resources are too limited, and Wesker wants more.

“Well, let’s see how well you react again,” Wesker says as he turns the vibrator up a notch, moving to take off the improvised cock-ring right as he pulls both clamps off of Chris’ nipples. The scream is loud, ear-piercing, and only briefly stopped as his cum shoot upward, coating his chest and torso once more. Wesker smirks at that – still the same range, he’ll have to run a few new tests on that later – before he sees that Chris eyes are closed, his body tense but obviously only from the continue stopping of complete pleasure it needs, and he experimentally runs a hand through Chris’ hair, not saying anything or speaking. He watches and the younger man jerks under him, head moving like a cat’s to briefly keep with the sensation before he seems to realize who is doing it, causing him to try to move away.

_Interesting…and worth looking into, when I have the chance._

Wesker leaves without another word, taking a seat and sending as polite a document as he can back to Excella, wanting to find out more about the now-dead prototype experiment, and another to Lenka, wanting to know what, exactly, he felt should be looked for when that drug combined with a Prototype-carrier. If anything, it would be an interesting scientific discovery, and may even give him someone to play with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, what are those tentacles doing there? *glares at RE5*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Wesker have some alone time. Plot intrudes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm moving RE5 timeline back to take place in 2010 and changing a few things.  
> ...blame all the 'if Chris was the one Wesker captured over Jill' stuff I've seen.
> 
> Also I promise the plot only partly effects the porn. As in not at all.

The rest of the trip, however long it lasted, was torture for Chris. The two ruined orgasms meant his skin was still too sensitive, and the bonds only kept him still as fought, his mind continually coming back to the fact that it had been Wesker who made him hard, Wesker’s involvement that allowed the _thing_ to take him, and Wesker was the one who’d made him…who…

Chris’ body had taken too long to stop singing from undirected pleasure and the painful areas of overstimulation he still felt, both from the BOW’s torment as well as Wesker’s later joining in to finish his torment. By the time the drug started to pull Chris back into his own mind, Chris’ self-loathing at his inability to fight and keep himself from nearly begging, from once more giving into that weakness he’d first given into when Wesker had raped him, sickens Chris. He’s stronger than that; he should be able to fight him no matter what, but the moment touched him in such a way, Chris’ body reacted.

_It’s the drug, that’s all,_ Chris thinks frantically, pulled back into the quiet without his body’s need for release that he wasn’t given. _I just need to keep myself focused, I just need to fight this and escape._

_Please let me escape. Please let this just be the drug._

His mind briefly comes back a few times, jostling or cool touches bringing him back from the darkness that he’s trapped in but now wants to be in. It means he’s not being touched, raped, by Wesker, and it also means it gives him time to think of a way to escape. The only problem is that it also makes him think of all the ways he _can’t_ escape – Chris doesn’t know the area that well, let alone where he is or how he’ll be able to navigate it. When he’ll be able to try to escape…

_I will get out of this! I can’t think like this. I can get out of this. I’ll get out and survive this._

Chris doesn’t know how long he’s out and moved, only that when he’s brought back by the sensation of someone touching him, he’s in a new position, arms held over his head in something like a Y-formation, though he’s low enough that there’s no real strain on his shoulders. His legs are spread apart by a sort of long bar, but he’s too low to be in a true X-formation, his knees bending as Wesker moves around him, touching him as Chris struggles weakly in the bonds. The touching, light and sensual, Wesker’s hands free of the usual gloves, the coldness seeping into Chris’ skin, making him shiver a bit as he tried to move, letting out a low curse as he feels the drug’s effects still keeping him from doing much, feels Wesker’s hands slide down to once more cup Chris’ ass and massage the flesh there, a low chuckle coming from him as he moves closer to Chris, the feel of leather and cloth making Chris tense in fear of what could happen. He can’t fight it right now, he can’t do much besides endure whatever torture Wesker has for him, and figure out an escape plan before then.

“You’ve been showing some interesting signs, Chris,” Wesker whispers in his ear, the nearness making Chris move his head away from the hot breath and turn, trying to not bare his throat anymore to the man. “Let’s test it. You should know by now how much I enjoy testing things.”

“Bastard,” Chris growls out, weakly struggling as Wesker moves away, getting Chris to struggle a bit to stay aware. He can’t let himself lose track of things, he can’t fall back into that darkness simply because it means being unmolested by Wesker. Already, Chris has no idea how much longer it will take for the drug to wear off, and so he can’t plan around it. He doesn’t even know where he is in relation to the place he was captured or even the first place where he saw Wesker. All he knows is that he has to get through this, get control of his body back fully, and get out.

“You were so verbal when I first took you,” Wesker mutters from somewhere behind Chris, “Though I’m sure your time with the experiment did not help your throat either.” Chris managed a glare as Wesker’s hand moved down his sides, briefly catching a ticklish spot that got Chris to jump before settling on his hips. Chris’ fear peaked as he struggled to move away, unable to get far from the combinations of the drug, the last few attacks and rapes leaving Chris just too tired to fight back as much as he wants to, _needs to_ , so he can escape. Wesker’s fingernails lightly graze down the center of Chris’ back, the sensation of them getting Chris to jerk forward, trying to get away from the weird and almost nice sensation that he feels. He shivers when the hand moves away, glaring at Wesker as he moves around him and smirks at Chris, turning away to look at something else as he says, “I will have to try out something for a bit, and then a few other things.” He shifts as Wesker walks over near him, Chris struggling to move away before he feels something pushing against his ass, the blunt thing and the steady pressure, at one point the thing too big, the pain causing tears to come to his eyes as he pulls weakly against the restraints on his ankles and wrists, the pressure finally disappearing as Chris jumps, the touch to some spot inside of him sending a bolt of pleasure through him, enough that he curses quietly as he hears Wesker’s footsteps, heat rising in his cheeks as he recalls that the madman is the one behind this torture, that whatever he put in can’t be any good.

“You’re always so against any other item besides my fingers and my cock.”

“bastard,” Chris growled, shivering and trying to struggle, though the new feeling of fullness, seated too far in him, not even moving as he tries to shift or get himself free, even if he doubts he can get far. Wesker simply chuckles as he walks a bit away, pulling out something that looks like a small remote. He doesn’t speak, instead watching as he pushes a button and the thing in Chris comes to life, getting him to gasp in surprise, the movement making the thing in him go in right where the pleasure-spot inside of him is. Chris glares at Wesker as he begins to curse, the buzz filling the room as his curses were still too quiet to carry. It means he hears when the remote beeps again, getting him to stop his long line of curses as the vibration and feeling intensifies, reminding him of the monstrous thing that Wesker had used on him last time. He shivers as the thing begins to buzz faster, cursing as his body shakes, his head falling forward as he finds himself looking at his flaccid cock. He shakes his head in denial as the vibrator spikes again, this time getting Chris to let out a yell of pain, pleasure, and frustration. His body shifts and moves as he tries to get some sort of release, not even hearing Wesker’s steps as Chris body goes through a full-blow shudder, feeling like the ruined orgasm that he’d had only an hour or less ago. He barely manages to get out a curse when a hand comes up to his hips, pulling him back against leather and cotton, the pale hand he knows too well at this point reaching to slowly trace and stimulate his cock and balls. The other arm doesn’t come up until the sensation dulls down, Chris pulling in heaving breaths as he curses Wesker, growling out, “you bastard, you damned coward, let me go.”

“You seem incapable of pleasurable functions without me,” Wesker whispers in his ear, his other arm coming around to hold near his chest, pulling him back so his body is flush with Wesker’s as the other man begins to slowly bring him to hardness, Chris cursing him before his whole body jerks at the renewed pleasure from the vibrator, Wesker’s strength keeping him still as he tries to shake and fight, the drugged weakness keeping him still as he feels a new orgasm building, getting him to shake and try to escape, but between the tight bonds on his wrists, the angle, and Wesker’s powerful hold on him, as well as the slow, careful, and consistent pressure and movement gets Chris’ curses to turn more into moans.

“You’re enjoying this quite a bit,” Wesker mutters in Chris’ ear, Chris trying to move his head away but unable to get too far as he shivers, his body’s signals and needs trumping his mind’s horror and anger at what is going on, at how the he only wants to give in, to—

“bastard, you damned bastard,” Chris pants as his body responds, shaking from how sensitive it was, how much he wants…he needs…he…

_No, no, not him! Not with him!_

“let me go,” Chris pleads, sweat and tears running down his face as he pants and gasps, the steady pleasure from Wesker’s hand on his cock contrasting with the frantic vibrations of the thing inside of him. “please, let me go.”

“You say that so sweetly,” Wesker tells him, teeth lightly grazing along Chris’ exposed neck as his hips try to move, the hold keeping him still and at Wesker’s mercy as the vibrator inside of him began to go faster, pulling out another cry of surprise and pleasure from Chris. “I’m glad that pride of yours disappeared, if only for this moment.”

“fucking coward,” Chris pants, his mind and body fighting for what to say – if he wants to plead for more, for a release to his pleasure, or if he wants to threaten the man raping him, torturing him – and as he feels himself get closer to the edge, he can’t quite get out the words. “fucking coward I’ll…ah…fuck…”

“You held out longer last time. Already fatigued? Or do you simply like it when it’s only us?” Wesker’s laugh reminds Chris of the other times the man had tried to show off his power, his ability, only for Chris to defeat him, but…but this time it’s triumphant and too close, everything is _wrong_ and Chris can’t…he can’t… “How romantic of you, Christopher.”

“f-fucking…bastard…I…I’ll kill…ah…fuck!” The last part was cut off as Chris came hard, his load shooting off into the distance as Wesker hummed his approval, the vibrator inside of him slowly dying off as Wesker released him.

“Now then,” Wesker said, still as confident as ever as he once more pulled out the remote, “time for a few tests to pass the time.”

=

It was after the fifth, and driest, of the orgasms that Chris simply fell forward, his body twitching when touched and, obviously, his mind trapped in the oversensitive mess that Wesker had made him. Really, the only thing keeping him even somewhat upright was the rope restraints, and they were also cutting painfully into Chris’ wrists, too much so for Wesker to want to continue without having to completely stop in order to ensure his Pointman still had working hands.

 A pity too – Wesker wondered if fucking Chris now would result in a similar painful orgasm, of if his overstimulated body could even take it. After what happened with the Uroboros prototype, there was no telling if he would be healthy after that, but that didn’t mean Wesker couldn’t do a quick medical scan and, if things were alright, find his own pleasure in Chris’ responsive, now-submissive body.

The timing was getting good as well – Chris would be free of the drug in a few hours, and honestly Wesker was of the opinion that if he allowed Chris some time to stew in his sorrow and think about his current state, it would result in far more fun taming the young man.

“Are you so spent already?” Wesker teased as he walked forward, getting Chris’ ankles undone and frowning briefly at their red and raw state. He’ll have to look into that rope-technique Lenka sent him, especially ones designed to restrain and distribute weight.

_Spencer’s training was quite flawed, if he kept such things from us. The old man probably wanted us to simply pop out children, not create something far better._

The idea made Wesker’s teasing of Chris take on an edge. He didn’t need to think about the old man and his ambitions when he had something he found so interesting. Even if the impotence was a side-effect of the drug alone, it was still something Wesker enjoyed – that it was his touch, the pleasure he gave Chris, which got him to respond, even if he fought. That it was Wesker’s hold which caused Chris to finally give in and which could overpower whatever fight he had.

That he was still the captain to Chris’ distrustful, angry, volatile but talented pointman.

“I’ve wasted more than enough time dealing with the fawning women.” Wesker mutters as he releases Chris’ hand, holding him a bit more gently than he thought he could as the younger man twitches at the touch, a moan that sounds painful getting him to slowly run a hand through Chris’ short brown hair. Like before, when overstimulated and out of himself, Chris’ body reacts before his mind does, leaning into Wesker’s touch before he jerks and tries to fight. As weakened as he is, Wesker holds him easily, hearing the muttered curses against his shoulder as he takes Chris’ wrist down, seeing the bits of blood and raw-rubbed skin. “I must admit, having to deal with you has been quite enlightening, Chris.”

Wesker is very sure that Chris mutters something along the lines of ‘fuck you’ at him, but Wesker doesn’t care, easily carrying him over to a side bench and bending him over it. The scanner reveals what Wesker thought – Chris is dehydrated, hurt, but can be fucked senseless so long as he gets what he needs afterwards.

Wesker slowly, almost as slowly as he’d done when pushing the plug into Chris, takes it out, holding his hips as Chris squirms and cries out in protest. “I’m sure you’d love to have this in your ass all night, considering how much pleasure it’s given you.” More cursing, though it’s far too intelligible to make out, and shaking of Chris’ head, reminding Wesker of a particularly wild horse that, in his youth, he’d set out to tame. It had not gone well, and he’d been told by the groomsman and various ranch hands, over the course of those weeks, exactly what he’d done wrong.

_“It’s called patience, kid,” the gruff farmhand had told him, after forcing him to clean the barn and throw bales of hay for the day – a menial chore that left Wesker far too exhausted by the end to think of revenge against him or the others, “You didn’t listen to us ‘cause you thought you knew best. Your type of smarts don’t get ya a horse, it gets ya in trouble. You listen and learn, then you figure out a better way. The point there is you_ learn _first before you try to do everything better’n everyone else.”_

He’d repeated that to Birkin, when the order came down to kill Marcus, only it had been a bit more elegant. Birkin had laughed, and been more than happy to take the leeches and the t-virus, then turn it all over to someone else and work on his own G-virus. They’d learned, and then they’d made their improvements, but when Umbrella’s own incompetence had created the Raccoon City incident, as well as all the others that Wesker had taken advantage of to further his own research. He’d learned, and built upon that as Spencer and the others hadn’t, and now he’d learn and build upon this new thing – breaking and taming Chris Redfield.

The plug came out far easier than it went in, Chris panting and cursing as he struggled to get some hold or purpose on the couch he was bent over, apparently not hearing Wesker as he opened up his leather trousers and released his cock, smirking as he lined up and drove into Chris’ abused ass, forcing him forward. The younger man let out a yell of pain and fear, tinged with frustration and pleasure, before Wesker began his pace, long strokes getting Chris to cry and fight as much as he could, unable to get enough strength or leverage to fight back. His body was a livewire already, and each purposeful, strong stroke landed squarely along the abused clump of nerves that had been rubbed for the better part of a few hours, making Chris fight and cry as his body’s signals began to overlap, his mind unable to command his body to do whatever it was that it wanted, or even to get out the right words, it seemed. Chris was a mess of pleasurable sounds and pants as Wesker began to speed up, a hand firmly on Chris’ hips as another went to his upper back, pushing the man down for a better angle as his shallow-but-quick thrusts hit his prostate each time.

Wesker let out his own satisfied growl as he came, hearing Chris’ sobs and feeling his body’s reaction to another dry orgasm, the pain of it causing the younger man’s body to go limp as soon as it was done. That helped out Wesker in moving him to the new place, and also allowed him time to examine and properly admire Chris’ body, as bulked up as it was in places. He liked Chris better was he was slim and muscled, more like a fighter than a body-builder, but he’d make sure that, when Chris was his completely, the other man got into the shape that Wesker liked, one that would be advantageous towards everything Wesker needed to do.

He’d finished with the preparations when the intercom beeped, getting Wesker to frown before moving back over, seeing it was two things – a rather urgent message from Ada, and a call from Lenka.

He answered the call from Lenka as he skimmed through Ada’s quick message, frowning at the implications as he heard Lenka say, “ _Sir, the woman from Tricell is here_.”

“Of course she is,” Wesker muttered, annoyed at being interrupted for the trivial thing, “and I told you to take care of her.”

“ _She has…news…to report, about the subject._ ”

Wesker’s glare was obvious, even through his dark-colored glasses.

“ _The subject who graciously donated the t-virus antibodies. Apparently, there was a misstep.”_

Wesker glanced at Chris, still asleep, then back to Lenka. “I will be there in a moment. I’d best hear the reason for this…misstep, and there had best be a plan in place to correct it. I am a bit busy at the moment.”

Lenka’s brief smirk was enough to make Wesker glare at him before the other man nodded and cut off the transmission. He seemed happier that Wesker was going to leave him to do the work than he was at having to call Wesker in, but considering that Excella believed herself to be the only one worthy of him…

He quickly sets up what he needs, the medical analysis of Chris’ blood, the drug, and his own blood and semen would be interesting, at least, and he has to assume that if he leaves Chris to brood while he deals with this new mess that Excella had created, the young man will be recovered enough to fight a bit more when Wesker took him again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot actually intrudes as Wesker is called away to deal with a 'problem'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: PORN!  
> muses: PLOT! and research the porn!  
> me: ...wait, how many of you are there? Why are you...oh come on, not the [adult muppets](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTJvdGcb7Fs) and...  
> muses: *start singing along*  
> me: *hangs head in shame* FINE, plot.
> 
> Too many wanted plot to come in, because reason and feels. also apparently I have to research stuff before being allowed to write it. I'm not sure since when, but there you have it.

The first thing that Chris notices when he regains consciousness is how sore he is, and that he can’t quite move. He can smell the familiar scent of that first-aid spray, and he feels gauze around his ankles and wrists, as well as a few other areas, but the main thing he finds himself sore. It’s not from a workout – Chris knows that feeling – but from what feels like dehydration. Chris opens his eyes and slowly blinks away the fuzzy sight before him, frowning as he tries to make sense of it.

There are bars in front of him, covered over with what Chris is sure is something like chicken wire, the size of the cage big enough for Chris to stretch out and still have some inches in either direction. It’s big enough for him to crawl around it, and some part of Chris wonders if it’s for transporting the animalistic horrors, or repurposed from a similar cage. At the front, or at least near his head, are what looked like two bowls, like dog bowls, one full of water and the other full of what looked like stew or watery broth. As he glances above and around him, Chris notes the thin blanket he’s on, as well as the feel of what is possibly the floor or something. He glances over and pushes hard on the bars, shaking at how weak he feels and the lack of give on the bars. Whatever he was on, he can’t see any hinges or weak areas just yet, and it gets Chris even more worried. He shifts enough to glance back, noting a few spots that might work, but unable to see anything.

Chris shifted and looked back at the bowls, disgust warring with his need to at least eat and drink _something_. He had to survive, and he’d had enough training to know that his pride, at least at this point, was not something he was going to let get in the way of regaining his strength so he could escape. Chris crawled forward shakily, using his hand to scoop up some water and take a sip. The cool water tasted so good, making him almost long for a bit more, but he waited, trying to see if there was any ill effects as he glanced briefly at the soup, seeing the light coloration and smell as near-recognizable chicken soup. When Chris didn’t feel any weird side effects or taste anything in the water, he shifts a bit to get closer, leaning forward and drinking quickly from the water, sucking it down without actually sticking his face into it, though it was a near thing. The water soothed his throat and made him shiver, happy to get some relief after the last eight hours of…

 _Stop! Focus on what you need to escape, not on that._ Chris dunked his face in the water, though the bowl was too shallow to really drown himself in, but the cool water on his face at least helped clear his head, Chris pulling his face out and shaking it briefly before going back to drinking the rest of the water. He briefly tried to move the bowl, finding that whatever the bottom was, it was pretty much pinned to that.

_There’s one weapon down._

Chris let out a sigh as he shook his head, bits of water spraying before he went back to drinking the rest of the water and then briefly tasting the soup. It was more like a broth, and Chris wrinkled his nose at the taste, shifting away to look around the room he was in. Seeing the two long poles, one suspended from a tall metal frame, causes him to look away as a wave of disgust washes through him, making him wish the cage was large enough for him to sit up and curl into a ball. His mind briefly goes back to what he remembers before he passed out from the pain/pleasure that Wesker had pushed on him, the continued overstimulation and…and…

_I’m going to fucking kill him. For Jill, for everyone, for my fuck-up that lead…that…_

Chris’ blunt fingernails dug into his skin, and he barely managed to keep in the sob that threatened to tear through him, replacing that fear and sadness with anger and a _need_ to get out.

 _Wesker is_ DEAD.

=

Excella is dressed in her usual low-cut gown, her well-endowed breasts heaving in annoyance as Wesker watches the video, pausing and motioning up to the one discrepancy he knows she had tried to hide with grainy video, but had failed to do so when he looked through it. “So what, exactly, were you thinking with that?”

“She was starting to wake during the experiments,” Excella whined, obviously trying to cover for her complete lack of ability in this, “and you were busy here with Uroboros and--.”

“I was busy here with the flower that creates Uroboros and the Prototype, from which all other viruses come,” Wesker said, his tone that of chastising a child, “not to mention I only recently got the BSAA to stop sending one of its last founding members after me, only to find you’d allowed the release of another while trying out untested clones like what that obsessed Simmons is working on.”

“It wasn’t untested,” Excella argued back, “and we didn’t think she wouldn’t recognize it in that state. I thought that it would…that it would....”

Wesker shook his head, glancing back at the dead clone of the STARS ALPHA team pilot, Vickers, and letting out a breath, annoyance making her fall back like a willful child. He honestly was only working with Tricell because his Neo Umbrella organization could only do so much without requiring funds, and those came mostly from one of Umbrella’s former rivals and, now, the main company to eclipse them in ability and stupidity. Jill Valentine, free and with all that had happened to her, was not about to let him keep Chris Redfield.

Granted, what she didn’t know would probably result in her thinking he was dead for the time being, as Chris believed of her, but if he played things right….

“Why clone Vickers anyway?” he demanded, recalling the “Chickenshit” and his fortuitous, if unhappy, departure that had sent them into the mansion. “Or are you testing out a different type of cloning than Simmons? Ada is quite unhappy, seeing as how the man apparently just wants to make up an easy sex-toy for himself that might also be somewhat useful.”

Honestly, Wesker was more annoyed at the potential loss of the antibodies Jill had within her from the t-virus, let alone the t-virus that Nemesis injected into the STARS members during the Raccoon City incident, than cloning his old STARS team members. Viruses had a rather nasty tendency to mutate over the years, and so few of the original t-virus strain were around after the decimation of Raccoon City and the fall of Umbrella. The Plagas virus that Wong had retrieved was a boon for all of his projects, continued or new, and he honestly was happier for her aid in everything thus far than any of Excella’s attempts to court him with _her_ supposed intellect and grace.

Even if Wong had a soft spot for that Leon, he could see the reason for it, and thus far it had gotten them more chances to further their own cause with him alive and causing issues than dead and having some new unknown go in and muck things up. Kennedy and the others who routinely ‘ruined’ plans had thus far only proven themselves more as ways to gain good test data and also as a way to find worthy men and women for defeating the disease, or even those who could possibly live beyond that.

Excella, like Spencer, didn’t see that. To them, the best was only what their narrow view of things was, and it was beginning to grate on Wesker’s nerves. His original plan to recreate the world had hit the same snag as Spencer’s, only in reverse – how to leave more alive, rather than kill everyone off.

 _It gives me far better battle data, at least_ , Wesker thinks as he glances back to Excella Gionne, the CEO of Tricell’s Africa division and the woman that had managed to help him continue his research. What annoys him is her constant attempt to flirt and hint of her lust for him and the power that the Uroboros and the other viruses, not to mention the things they created. However, her loss of Jill and the fact that she was trying to clone his past men, or at least the far more useless STARS members, and with Chris in his grasp, he wonders about her actual thoughts.

“I see no reason not to,” she speaks up for her research, even if it failed miserably, “and the style in which Simmons and his own researchers have been trying to recreate just one person over ones that might actually work for us.”

He tilts his head at her, getting Excella to look away, her eyes falling on the four prisoners they have, awaiting for whatever tests Wesker decides to use upon them. The four are in solitary, away from each other, and the blonde one that had been so infatuated with Chris appears to be far worse off, having gone to a corner of the room, curled up in a ball and looking far less put-together than the others. Wesker has considered using a few strains of the Plagas and Uroboros virus on them, trying to figure out which would do what before they let them out to deal with their—

“You have a few agents?”

He looks back at Excella, seeing her eyes shining in curiosity and with a smile that he wants to see the result of. “We had a few come into our other lab, looking for their lost friend. I’m dealing with that one.”

Excella’s smile disappears, her look that of annoyance as she looks over at him. He sees Lenka appear to the other side of him, smirking as he says, “You wish to borrow one of our guests, Gionne? I’m sure they would be of use for your heavy-handed approach.”

“I had already perfected a serum that the armies of the world would pay a fortune to obtain,” she growled at him, Wesker standing between the two and letting out a mental sigh of annoyance. He’d forgotten that the Italian woman and his African second-in-command were often at each other’s throats for various reasons. “With one test subject I would have maybe made good, but with four?”

“Two.”

The two looked over at him as he pointed to the curly-haired one, the one that had been as upset with the blonde’s hurt as Chris had, and then to one of the other men who’d been with them. “You get two to play with and experiment on, Excella. The other two can be used to show me the extent of your wonder-drug or anything else you’d like to try out and couldn’t with the limited resource we had. Meantime, I would also like to test something on one of them regarding the Plagas sample and the Uroboros. It’s still not stable enough for my liking.”

Spencer wanted to raze the old world and recreate a new one in his image. Wesker doubts a group of others like himself will survive long without the in-fighting he’d seen in the Umbrella Corporation to take hold, but he does like the idea of creating these little tests, of gaining an idea of how badly things can be, and using that threat on the world to get whatever he wants.

A God doesn’t need to be the thing that the world was created from. They simply needed to be the ones that held the most power over the rest of their subjects.

“While you have your fun,” Wesker told her, getting her to look up at him with adoration that he found so fawning and unnatural, “I need to speak to Lenka on another matter. Do your job, Excella, and I might even forgive your mishap and that important loss from earlier.”

=

The water bowl fills on its own, Chris suspects from some sort of pump underneath it, but he can’t move the bowl or get to the piping, so it’s a moot point. All he cares about is that the water is there, and he’s somewhat able to time it. It gives him something to do, to focus on, besides the dark room, the torture area to one side, and his own shame.

 _Stop! Stop thinking about that! The fuck is wrong with you? Focus on escape, on getting back to save or…_ Chris cut off that line of thought. If he could get the others out, he will. The focus had to be on escaping, on getting out and back to a safe base so the BSAA could carpet-bomb the lab or wherever he was. Hopefully they’d get the place where those rapist assholes were too.

_Besides the one currently using your body as a cum-dumpster._

Chris grimaced at the thought, pushing harder on his arm to try to dispel the thoughts that had been trying to derail him since he’d woken up. It was only recently that the BSAA had gone through mandatory trauma recovery things, and after what happened with that other par—

_STOP!_

Thinking about that other traitor lead him to thinking about the last time he’d seen Jill, that Wesker was alive and well and Jill…Jill was either dead, or had been left to die while Wesker walked off, probably smirking at the irony. Jill had survived everything else, but her loyalty to Chris had gotten her killed.

Chris kicked aimlessly at the bars, trying to get his mind back to his present sour predicament. He needed to figure out a way to escape, and he’d need it soon. He wasn’t about to remain in Wesker’s clutches for however long that bastard wanted to keep him until his boredom resulted in Chris being used as an experiment and becoming some sort of evil monster for the BSAA to put down.

He debates eating the broth, but the disgust from before makes him wonder exactly how good it is. His stomach might need the food, but right now water is more important, so Chris goes for that, drinking it down and using some of it to wash himself, or at least get a bit wet, before going back to trying to figure out a way out of the cage, or what he’ll do if let out. Wesker or someone else will come up and probably try to hold him down and do…something. Chris doesn’t know if he can completely escape whoever comes through, but he has to hope that whoever comes in next, they aren’t too disciplined.

Chris is a bit surprised when he hears footsteps in the room, getting him to glance over and frown when he sees the familiar black clothing before Wesker walks into the light, looking over at Chris and smirking when he sees him awake. There’s what sounds like another person rolling something in, and then leaving out of a near-silent door as Chris glares at him.

“I see you decided to join us again,” Wesker purred as Chris continued to glare, his energy focused more on finding an escape than listening to Wesker try to intimidate him. “I must admit, I didn’t think you’d end up so worn out after our last session.”

Chris’ glare deepened even as he felt shame and anger rise at the reminder of the last ‘session’, of how pathetic he’d been at the end. Wesker’s smirk as he looks over Chris’ naked body doesn’t help him either, making the younger man self-conscious about how vulnerable he currently is. It doesn’t stop him from keeping his glare leveled at Wesker as he approaches and circles the cage slowly, his steps even as he does. Chris does his best to shift a bit, to stay as far from Wesker as he can, though there’s little that he can do in the cage that once felt a bit larger. Wesker pauses as he gets almost behind Chris, watching as he bumps uncomfortably into the latched-down water and food, the smirk still in place as he examines Chris.

“You’ve gone quiet on me again, Chris. Are you attempting to play coy with me? And after you made such lovely sounds the last time I had my fun with you.”

Chris barely holds in a curse as he glares back at Wesker, the smirk growing as he tilts his head and looks over Chris like he’s a particularly juicy bit of meat, or a steak cooked to perfection. It makes Chris’ skin crawl as he shifts, trying to stay in the middle of the small cage but also as far away from Wesker as he can. Wesker chuckles at Chris’ attempt to stay away from him, moving a bit further away and to something that apparently had been brought in while Chris’ attention was on Wesker. _Stupid, I should’ve been paying more attention!_

And what, allowed Wesker to touch him again, to realize his attention was elsewhere? The last few times that had happened, all that he’d gotten was pain or caused the pain of others. Keeping his attention on Wesker right now was more important than whoever else or whatever else was going on, since Wesker was probably the one he’d have to outpace in order to escape. At the same time, he can’t really outrun the bastard – even when Wesker was a full human, he had been faster in a straight-ahead than Chris, and only somewhat faster when it came to fighting and dodging. Chris had always managed to out-think him when it came to some types of stealth, but he’ll have to focus and hope for either a damned huge amount of luck or something.

“Your gears are turning again,” Wesker’s voice gets Chris to glare at him from where he’s putting some of the things and looking at something, closing a box and moving to stand and look over at Chris in the cage he’s been put in. “I hope you’re not thinking of cutting our time short, Chris. We’ve had so little time to catch up.”

“Fuck off and die already,” Chris manages to quietly growl out, his patience for dealing with Wesker at its limit. He’s had enough time to rally, and without the drug to weaken him, Chris is ready to fight against whatever Wesker throws at him.

Wesker slowly stands, a long coil of rope in his hand, and he gives Chris a predatory smile as something beeps, the sides of the cages popping up and opening, giving Chris only seconds to react. He barely manages to tumble to the side as Wesker lands right next to where Chris had been, the brunette managing to sent out a kick at the blonde that caught him right in the face, knocking off Wesker’s sunglasses and getting the other man’s head to go to one side as Chris manages to stand and start to run, just hoping to find and make it to the door. He doesn’t hear Wesker’s movement, only knows the next thing is rope around his neck, pulling him back and giving Chris barely enough time to get a hand between it and his neck, the rope burning as it’s pulled tight and Chris throws a hand back, connecting with a solid body – Wesker’s, he guesses – as he’s pulled back and staggered by the sudden change in direction, Chris doing his best to twist and fight back, the rope going out and Wesker’s hand grabbing Chris’ free wrist, twisting it painfully while Chris did his best to regain his balance, or at least fight back. He manages to get Wesker to pull him up, enough that he kicks and pulls, going down to send Wesker over and get himself out of the rope, twisting back and spotting two doors, though he can’t tell which one leads outside. He twists and runs, hoping to get between the two and open one, then the other, so he can get out of the room, at least.

Wesker recovers too quickly, and Chris manages to throw open the left door ( _bathroom, ok_ ) before turning, barely getting away before Wesker has him pushed against the wall, his forearm against Chris’ neck as Chris works to push and kick him, Wesker’s cat-pupiled, red-colored eyes glowing as he looks at Chris with…lust.

Disgust builds in Chris’ stomach as he fights back, seeing the smile on Wesker’s face as he easily holds Chris up before he hit Chris hard, sending him to the ground, his ears ringing as he feels someone sit on his back, pulling his arms behind his back, rope easily wrapping around his wrist and forearms as Chris does his best to focus again, struggling to throw the body off of him, the weight set too far down for him to easily throw it off and the added lean on his shoulders meaning he had no good center to use to throw the man off.

“There’s the pointman I hired,” Wesker’s voice is hot against Chris’ ear as he purrs that out, shifting and tying the rope further up as Chris’ struggles begin to weaken. The bursts of adrenaline and energy he’d used to fight and try to escape had only served to show him where a possible exit was, and now, he was too tapped out to even manage to throw the insane monster off of him.

The rope around his upper body criss-crosses his back and arms in such a way that movement is downright impossible, knots making their way up his back and finally around his shoulders and chest. Wesker’s quick on the setup, and leaves Chris to struggle before leisurely getting another length of rope, walking back over and returning to start tying up Chris’ legs as the other man cursed and struggled.

“I must admit, you surprised me,” Wesker’s calm voice serves to only get Chris angrier, getting the brunette to struggle more as Wesker continued, undaunted by his _former_ pointman’s protests. “I’d hate to face you at your best. That might actually be a challenge. Then again, even drugged you managed to take out six guards. A far better feat than your own men managed thus far, before and after their capture.” Chris’ struggles intensified at the mention of the other four, his hope spiking at the last bit.

_He left them alive so far…they can still be saved._

“You seem interested in that. Still hoping for the petite blonde one to give you another blowjob?”

“You fucking bastard,” Chris growled out as Wesker finished, having tied Chris’ legs so they were bent, the white-haired former captain using the rope along Chris’ spin to pull him up so he was in a kneeling position, glaring back at the red-eyed madman.

“I’ll have to play nicely with that one, then,” Wesker told Chris with a smirk as he watches him, not even bothering to go retrieve his sunglasses that gave him some semblance of humanity. “Though I’ve heard the guards have also taken a shine to him. I’m sure they’d love to have him to play with again, since you’re unavailable.”

Chris clenched his teeth, too angry to even threaten the madman, and Wesker smirks as he runs a hand through Chris’ hair, the brunette shaking his head to dislodge it and glaring at him. He’s well aware of the power imbalance here, but he also knows that he’ll get through this and get out, or at least give the others a way out of this hellhole. That’s all Chris needs, and he’s closer to it.

_I know the way out. I just need to get there._

_I just need to survive this._

Wesker’s dislodged hand hovers over Chris head, finally grabbing hold of his short hair and pulling at it so Chris is forced to look at Wesker, seeing his eyes glow that unholy red color as the white-blond haired man smiles at him.

“Time to get back to your training.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excella has PLANS, and Wesker begins to carry out his on Chris.

Excella glares at the readings as Lenka types on his computer, the slow tapping getting her to feel like she should yell at the man who had managed to gain Albert’s confidence in South Africa. She’s far more able than this odd man whose only ability seemed to be creating drugs, not viruses. She’d managed to give him the resources to figure out the Uroboros virus, _she’d_ managed to get the t-virus antibodies to stabilize the new and wonderful--.

“You’re grinding your teeth,” Lenka’s fake accent gets Excella to glare at him fully now. “It’s most unbecoming of a lady.”

Excella cursed at him in Italian, turning back with a huff as she checked the various reports and readouts from the two soldiers she’d been given to ‘play’ with, wishing she’d not lost such a boon as Jill Valentine to use for her subject. Still, Albert’s former soldier was still at the top of her physical limits, even with the reactivated t-virus and antibodies leaving her with speed and strength closer to that of Albert’s own. She wonders if Albert will accept her offer to give him more of the Prototype, to keep his powers at their peak, but he’d mentioned that the two injections he’d given himself, years ago, had been enough.

“He learns quickly,” Lenka muttered, getting Excella to glance over and walk to his monitor, a blush spreading over her cheeks as she sees exactly what he’s watching, the naked man before the black-clad Albert glaring but…his physique, his body, the muscles…

“Do you like men who look able to hold you against a wall and fuck you all night, or do you simply like that you can name all those muscles that are visible?”

The crude statement gets Excella to glare at Lenka as he points to a different monitor, this one with blood readouts. “I injected that man with a drug we have – it stays in the bloodstream despite activity, and it’s very good for getting unwilling participants to…cooperate. Our dear man there is mentally and physically able to resist, when given something to fight. But I think he’ll have less fight in him at one point.”

“Which point?” Excella asks as she frowns at the readings. “What, exactly, happened?”

“He’s been fairly exclusive to Wesker for the duration, and I’ve been wondering if there are some changes that come about with Wesker’s blood chemistry.” He gives her a smirk. “I saw that you found that _item_ a little while ago, but left it home. Was that beneficial at all?”

She glares at him, refusing to answer, as she watches the strong man struggle against his bonds, straining as Albert’s gloved hand traces their definitions – his pecs, his abs – before trying to calm herself enough to focus. She had to prove to Albert that she was the one for him, to become his queen in the new world he would create with the Uroboros. That man and his flawless abs, large legs and arms, and handsome features, was simply an obstacle to overcome, and an easy one at that.

“I don’t need to tell you anything, _Lenka_ ,” she growled out at him, turning from the screen and heading to go and start her own work with the two men she’d been given to work with. Her mind would not go elsewhere and to the camera that Lenka had to observe Albert, nor to what, possibly, Albert would do with the other man. No, her mind had to be focused, but after the mention by Lenka…

The call is easy, and she doesn’t see the camera following her as she says, “Go and pick up the Edonia package. Pay whatever sum, but get him here. I have to test something.”

Albert Wesker had passed on his genetics, and if he would be so distracted, perhaps his son could be used for Simmons style of cloning…

=

Hogtied as he is, Chris is defenseless and unable to do much to fight against anything else Wesker does to him. It’s not a position Chris wants to be in, _hates_ being in, but no matter how he pulls and tries to get the ropes. The only thing so far that seemed to change was that his arms and wrists were now feeling raw and he was even more worn out than the fight had left him. It only made him want to fight back more, hoping to somehow get out.

Wesker seems pleased with what he’s done, reaching over easily tease one of Chris’ exposed nipples as he finishes with some of the ropes, pulling them so Chris is now hanging from the same beam that had held him a few hours ago, unable to do more than simply glare and struggle weakly against the rope. There was nothing much he could do, but Chris wasn’t about to give up and make it look like Wesker had gotten him.

“My, you’re persistence to fight me is getting tiring, Chris. It’s only been a day…how long do you think you can hold up?”

“However long it takes, you bastard,” Chris mutters, glaring as he finds himself at eye-level with Wesker, the blonde man chuckling as he tests the ropes, Chris trying to breathe and focus, trying to not think about how exposed he is. Wesker has mostly used the rope keeping his arms back to hold him up, while the two that forced his legs to bend were forced apart, leaving his mostly-rope-free torso open and exposed to whatever Wesker wanted to do to him. He can’t move, can barely manage anything like a swing or some sort of momentum.

“You always liked to talk when you had nothing left, always loved to try to get them to give your partners time to come to your aid.” Wesker snorted as he grabbed Chris chin, forcing him to look up at the man. He’d not retrieved the dark sunglasses, instead allowing Chris a full view of his red eyes and cat-like, yellow pupils as he smirks at the bound BSAA agent, telling him easily. “No one’s coming to help you out of this, Chris. No partners, no sister, no one.”

Chris glared at him, even if what Wesker said was true so far. The others are somewhere, and Chris can only hope to save them is to get himself out, to next time make it out the door and to at least get a gun, clothing, _anything_ that will get him out of here.

Wesker’s eyes glow as he watches Chris, the lust on his face evident as Chris tries to pull away in disgust. The hold keeps him from pulling away, pain shooting through his jaw briefly as Wesker’s eyes trail down Chris’ body, his other hand moving to trace and pull at Chris’ nipple, getting him to try to pull away, if not from the hand on his chest then at least from the one gripping his head. Chris tries to focus on the pained sensation he gets from trying to get his head out of the painful hold, rather than the brief bits of pleasure shooting through his body as his nipples are teased and played with, getting hard from the cold and the stimulation as Chris tries to ignore it, to get his mind to override the responses his body is giving him, the feel of it only reminding Chris of how he’d been unable to fight the sensations before, of his breaking and begging from the last ‘session’ that Wesker had done.

“I think for now, we’ll see what you can take,” Wesker tells him, the smile and look he gives Chris making the younger man pale as he finally lets go of Chris’ jaw, moving to pull on black latex gloves and something that looks like a generator. He seems to consider something else for a long moment before moving up. “I enjoy seeing your gorgeous eyes while I take you. So, let’s make sure they stay open today, huh Chris?”

Chris glares back at Wesker, still struggling to move as Wesker brings out black, round that Chris recognizes as electrodes. He struggles against the ropes as Wesker begins to put them along his exposed thigh, moving back to coat his hand in lube before reaching to start jerking Chris off. Chris curses at the hard pull, Wesker chuckling as he leans in to whisper into Chris’ ear. “Did Jill ever do this for you? I’m sure you fucked her once. Or was it someone else on the team that you were screwing?”

“You twisted sonuvabitch,” Chris growls out, fighting even more as Wesker stays too close, the pull on his cock less painful and fast, instead slower, twisting at the head as Wesker’s other hand reached up to once more trace the rest of his body, pulling at his hard nipples as Chris struggles to get enough movement that he could do something, anything, to inflict _pain_ on the man.

“I’m sure you were screwing one of the men, since I know Jill wasn’t. But tell me, _did_ you thaw out our lovely Valentine?”

“Fucking cold-hearted,” Chris ground out, still struggling as he breath began to hitch at the pleasure he was getting, “selfish asshole…you…you fuckin…ah…”

“You’re starting to not quite resist as much,” Wesker purred as he moved away, but only enough to wrap something around the base and just under the head of Chris’ cock, getting him look down in fear and worry at what he saw. “Perhaps I was wrong? Were you holding out for someone else?”

Chris glared at him, the older man smirking as he moved the block closer, Chris now seeing the dials and wires before Wesker moved them to each of the small electrodes, and finally to the two connected to his cock. A final, silver-colored one was slowly coated with lube as Wesker reached out, humming approvingly as two digits slid into Chris, the other man cursing and panting in pain at the intrusion.

“I’m beginning to enjoy making you mine, Chris,” Wesker mutters, withdrawing his fingers and instead pushing in the new buttplug, Chris trying to get his body to do what it was told, but only receiving confused signals as he hears the small box start up, humming similarly to the way Wesker had. “Your body already responds so well to me. I’m sure when I have your mind as well, things will be far easier.”

“Go to hell,” Chris growled at him, despite the pain and pleasure, as well as the pain he knew was going to come. “And this time, _stay there_.”

Wesker gave him a smirk, and flipped the switch.

=

Watching Chris cry out as the machine built up, seeing him shake and fight the pain of the electrodes as they shot small volts of electricity through him, into his quaking ass and keeping his cock both erect but also just on the edge, was wonderful. Wesker wonders why he never thought of this before, though he supposes the answer to that is that he never had Chris alone like this before.

He lowers the shocks, watching as Chris’ body relaxes again and the man himself, breathing heavily, throws another tired glare at him. Wesker wonders if Chris will stop glaring at him, though to be fair, he finds the look to be very alluring. The sign that he had yet to break Chris Redfield, that his pointman was still fighting him, still trying hard to pretend he could escape and go back to some normal life.

_How very like Christopher, to deny the truth for as long as he could. How long did he deny my involvement until it was nearly too late? I’m sure in this as well, he’ll deny his real need for me until the final moment._

He slowly turned down the setting of the electricity until it was off, watching as Chris’ lovely cock twitch from the pain and stimulation, Chris looking worn out and fatigued, despite the weak glare he sent to Wesker. His Chris was so defiant, so perfect in his attempt to fight him. Why he hated him for so long is suddenly a mystery to Wesker as he slowly walks up, removing the items and smiling as he sees the hints that Chris’ orgasm had been denied, or at least that he’d come very close before Wesker had taken off and out the electrodes.

“You never answered my question, Chris,” Wesker says as he slowly, gently grips the other man’s cock, rubbing his thumb gently down the bottom as Chris barely manages to hide his breath hitching in pleasure. “Did you ever get Valentine out of her many outfits, or were you holding out for someone?”

Chris’ glare grew in magnitude as Wesker smiles at him. “No answer? I’m sure you’d be happier if you gave me one. I might even let things end early. I have a _day_ planned for you.”

Silence, with the same glare, gets Wesker to only chuckle as he releases Chris cock, considering before coating his latex-gloved hand in lube once more. “Suit yourself, but you will answer me by the end of this.”

“Go to hell,” Chris growls out, his voice edged with pleasure but still defiant.

Wesker chuckles as he slowly moves back, watching Chris’ eyes as they dart to his own, currently exposed ones before glancing away, disgust evident on his face. It always makes Wesker so curious, seeing how Chris reacts to the most notable physical change that the Prototype virus has left him. He’s not had any of his potential playmates be able to stand his eyes for very long – he doubts Excella knows about the change, and wonders what her reaction will be. He remembers Chris’ well, as he struggled to breath and escape before Alexa caught his attention. The horror at seeing the change, replaced by anger and determination the next time they faced each other.

Chris had never been surprised by his eyes after the initial hit, and some part of Wesker enjoyed that. That even now, the disgust was at Wesker and his supposed betrayal of their “colleagues”, over Wesker’s eyes and the symbol of both is defiance of Spencer, and accepting what Spencer believed he and Alex to be – test subjects.

_If Birkin was still alive, I’d have him make out a new virus, just for you, Chris._

 “If that’s your answer,” Wesker mutters, reaching to coat more of his hand with lube before slowly starting to push back into Chris’ ass, humming approvingly at the tightness around his fingers. “You’re always so tight for me, Chris.”

Chris let out an involuntary gasp as Wesker found and teased the younger man’s prostate, watching as Chris’ head shook in denial before Wesker worked in a third finger, scissoring the three as if in preparation for fucking Chris again. While that would be fun, and Wesker enjoyed each time he got to screw his pointman senseless, he had another plan for him.

Chris began to mutter denials when Wesker pushed in the other two fingers, his hand slowly pushing into the younger man’s hole before Wesker pulled it out a bit, shifting to make it a fist and pushing back in, up to his wrist. He watches both as Chris’ body takes in his fist, as well as Chris watching in horror, unable to look away as his body is fisted by Wesker, the brief touches against his prostate sending in waves of pleasure into him, if his cock’s constant twitching and redness was anything to go by.

“You take anything I give you, don’t you,” Wesker commented, reaching his other hand briefly to pull at Chris cock, getting the other man’s mind to apparently return, his denial and threats starting briefly before Wesker withdrew his hand, moving to add on another glove and coat both liberally with lube as he sees Chris’ eyes fill with dread as Wesker comes back, rubbing his now-glistening hands together before once more slowly sticking one hand up, moving the other one in as the first came out, getting Chris to throw his head back and start panting hard, shaking his head in denial as his cock remained erect.

“My, it seems you can take in more than you thought,” Wesker purrs as he continues, fucking Chris with his hands, making sure the younger man is full at any time. Chris shakes his head in denial, sweat starting to bead on his skin as his body also begins to shake, getting aroused despite Chris disgust at his former Captain.

Wesker loves this part, the part where Chris’ body betrays him, and his former pointman has nothing else to do but try to deny what his body obviously wants, has wanted. He shifts a bit, considering the reddened, bobbing cock for a long moment before he lets his lips touch it. Some part of him thinks he hears a protest, that such an act is that of someone _submitting, Wesker_ don’t _submit to anything Albert_ but he pushes it aside. He’s long given up on that sad attempt at conditioning, and with so much power over Chris, what’s to not say that he doesn’t also have power here? After all, Chris can’t move, can only voice his weak protests that his mind fights against.

“no, no don’t,” Chris’ protests, the heavy moan underneath it as Wesker looks up at him, seeing the mental anguish there, is enough to seal the deal. Wesker swallows him down easily, still keeping up the hand movement, and he feels Chris’ cock pulse in an attempt to find release, but unable to because of the band around his base. Chris lets out an involuntary cry of pain and disappointment as Wesker continues to suck, finding what Chris likes even as his hands stimulate his ass, pushing in and out of him and opening up his ass as Chris begs to be released, none of his pleading turning back to threats.

 _A move in the right direction,_ Wesker thinks as he remove his hands, sucking Chris’ cock deeply once more before releasing it and slowly standing, removing the gloves and watching as Chris looks at him, eyes a bit glazed from the pleasure, and loathing still prominent in them. _Oh Christopher…I will so enjoy making you break._

“Now then…are you going to answer my question? Did Valentine ever suck your cock like I did?”

Chris’ anger always seemed to focus at the mention of Jill, and he seemed to focus enough to spit weakly at Wesker. “Go. To. Hell.”

 “Still not the answer I’m looking for,” Wesker tells him, reaching to grip the back of Chris’ head and force him to look at the other man. “Let’s try this again, until you get it right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: (to friend) so...should I end it on a cliffhanger with possible fucking later based on various bdsm edging porns I've seen, or should I continue this?  
> friend: write more!  
> muses: stop here, edge later  
> me: *groan...*
> 
> My friend has a good idea, but the muses overrode his idea. Bad muses!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesker tries a few new tricks on Chris, and Chris finds himself unable to completely fight back.

Chris panted hard as the vibrator intensified, the feel of it along his cock and against his prostate making him gasp and try to pull in breath right before pain jolted through him, courtesy of the damned clamps over his nipples, Wesker pulling at them via the chain and smirking, his cat-like eyes glowing red as he watched the reddened and abused skin move with the silver-colored clamps he’d attached to them.

“You take pain so well, and still so hard,” Wesker’s voice is low, almost a purr, and some part of Chris wants to give in and answer Wesker’s question, except he keeps asking about Jill, about the dead comrades Wesker had betrayed. Chris wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of hearing the answer, not about something that had been between Jill and him.

The pull from the chain gets Chris to glare back at Wesker, trying to catch his breath as another wave of pleasure follows it. The added pain of the lack of an orgasm, the denial making Chris’ whole body shake as Wesker chuckles, asking again, “Did Valentine ever make you feel this good? Or was she fine with whatever you gave her?”

“g-g-go…to…h-he-hell,” Chris managed, panting and trying to draw in breath from the stimulation and pain before letting out a yell as the clamps came off, the hard push from Wesker’s fingers only serving to move the blood around to the now-sore, painful nipples as the vibrator was pulled out and the thing connecting it to his cock was taken off. “y-you fu-fuck-ing…s-son-uvabitch.”

“More than just your original statement,” Wesker mutters, as if keeping track of that, “but still not what I want to hear, Chris.”

Chris glared at him, getting Wesker to shift and pull at one of the ropes, getting Chris into a different position before reaching down to grab something that he didn’t quite get a look at. Chris growled at Wesker as he grabbed his hair to pull Chris’ head back, forcing the younger man to look up at the rope and the ceiling. “You’d better change your attitude, Chris. I’m not going to be so lenient if you won’t answer a simple question for me.”

The push of something metallic and round gets Chris to gasp, struggling despite being unable to move completely. The pressure built as the first round thing went into his ass, another, later one soon following, and the feel of metal around his ass getting Chris to gasp and try to draw in more breath. The pain and pleasure that Wesker kept shoving at him made it difficult for Chris to breathe, his gasps for breath seeming only to get Wesker far more interesting in torturing him. He’s panting hard by the time the final ball, or he hopes it is, goes into him and Wesker let’s go of his hair, pulling at some of the rope, by the feel of it tracing down his ass and along a metal hook that seemed attached to the round, metallic things inside of him now.

The feel of rope around his neck gets Chris to struggle, Wesker’s hand going back to grip his hair painfully as he whispered his Chris’ ear, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy this, Chris. The next part, though…you’ll have to use more words. Not that it will do you any good.”

The rope wrapped around Chris’ neck, the BSAA agent still struggling as Wesker finished tying it off, letting him go as Chris tried to move his head, letting out a gasp of pain as the hook inside him moved. Wesker seemed amused as he did his best to try to remain still, the sudden movement of it keeping Chris from being still as each jolt, painful and pleasurable, sent his head and neck back or forth. The thought of a gag briefly crossed his mind, but Wesker loves it when Chris screams, when he cries and begs, when his words disappear and all he can do is pant, moan, and try to string together something resembling coherence.

Wesker glances back into the ‘toys’ that Lenka had left for him, the other man having admitted that he’d not had anyone to ‘play’ with for a bit, and so he’d brought it in when Chris had been out, sleeping after the last ‘play’ with Wesker. A few of them looked rather nice, though Wesker enjoyed the nylon rope and holding Chris up, as this one was doing. But at the same time, Wesker wonders how quickly Chris will scream at the long, thin tube and its usage if Wesker tries it. If anything, it will at least make him fight even harder, and the metal means that Wesker can go back to the electric machine for some added fun.

 _No…let’s stick with what I can have fun with, what_ will _break him. Chris is expecting pain, expecting to resist any pain I give him. It’s why the pleasure took him so by surprise yesterday._

Wesker finds he doesn’t always like the toys as much, though they have their uses. But his own power – his strength, knowledge, and ability to hold Chris down on his own, without need of the toys, to take whatever he wants from the younger man, makes it all the more pleasing when he’s put into such a vulnerable position.

“You should see yourself,” Wesker tells Chris, getting the younger man to glare at him, moving his head and neck as little as possible, trying to keep the hook inside of him from going in deeper or moving anymore than it has. Wesker slowly traces down Chris’ abs and to his erection, rubbing it gently, toying with it in a way he’d found pleasurable when pleasuring himself, quietly and in the hopes his caretakers wouldn’t find out. Chris lets out a garbled gasp from it, his head starting back just before the movement of the rope and hook remind him of the one item in him, getting Chris to struggle a bit to focus and keep his body from betraying him.

“I love seeing how close I can get you, or watching as you fall over the edge with pleasure I give you,” Wesker says, moving closer, leaning in intimately as Chris tries to move his head away, only to come up against the issue of where the rope moved the hook in his body. Wesker’s other hand reached up to grip Chris’ hair, keeping his head back as Wesker bent in to lip and nip at the sweaty skin of his neck, just above the rope near the base, mirroring the ring around Chris’ cock.

If he was more feral, more animalistic, he’d bite down and leave a mark on Chris’ skin, along his neck or down near where the his shoulder joined, so that he could never wear a normal t-shirt without seeing the reminder that he was _Wesker’s_ , that the one man who claimed him was a man he’d sworn to kill for petty, disillusioned reasons. The thought of seeing such a mark on him gets Wesker to pull closer, his bite a bit harder and very likely to bruise – a good compromise, Wesker thinks, and testament to his control.

Chris let out an involuntary groan of pleasure at Wesker’s love bite, his muscles twitching from the attempt to pull away, the need to seek out pleasure at Wesker’s lips, and the strain of being in that position for so long. Wesker’s slow and steady ministrations to Chris’ shaft, rubbing the ever-building pre-cum over his fingers and down the red, throbbing dick and along the trapped, full balls only serves to get Chris to let out another whine, as if upset by the new pleasure that Wesker was giving him, instead of the pain from before, the electrical jolts that had served to both get him to yell out but also become painfully hard.

Wesker moved down as much as he could, nipping once more at the abused, erect nipples that he loved to see in clamps before moving back up, briefly grazing his teeth over Chris’ jugular and neck as the younger man let out little sounds of fear, his hips jerking up as much as they could into Wesker’s hand as his body begins to demand release, Wesker hearing Chris’ racing heartbeat and seeing it as Chris pants, trying to catch his breath before Wesker releases the back of Chris’ head, the younger man looking at Wesker with a mix of anger and disgust, though some seems far more self-loathing over disgust at Wesker, before the older man reaches to the base of the hook and begins to make it move, pushing it deeper inside and up a bit before moving back out and down.

Chris lets out a scream, throwing his head back at the feel of the hook digging into his insides, shifting slightly and pressing against already-abused nerves and areas getting him to shudder hard in pain and renewed pleasure. Wesker’s hand leaves Chris’ cock, moving to push against his lower abdomen, getting the younger man to let out a sob of pain as Wesker begins to pull it in and out, teasing the hole with the entry and exit of the largest ball of the group as Chris cried and panted. “stop, stop, you, you…fucking…AaaahhhaAHHH!” The final scream was as Wesker pushed it again, feeling the small bits shift before beginning to pull it out, getting Chris’ head to go back against the strain, the nylon rope choking him as his back and body strained to move. He managed to pull out to the biggest one before having to push back in, getting Chris to cry out again in pain and humiliation as more pre-cum leaked down his cock.

“I think you liked that,” Wesker said as he rubbed the head of Chris’ cock, getting the other man to squirm unsuccessfully, his head moving back as a whine escaped him. “Now, if you give me the answer to my question, I might even let you find release.” He hummed softly as he moved up against Chris’ body again, seeing the young man shiver at the touch of cotton and leather, his body stiffening in an attempt to escape. “Do you ever remember it?”

“G-gg-go…,” Chris panted out, choking a bit as Wesker reached to grab the rope linking the one around his neck to the hook, stopping the movements and instead pulling it as Chris coughed and wheezed, his body struggling weakly in a demand for air.

“I’ve been lenient with you thus far, Chris,” Wesker told him, letting his anger tinge his voice as he let go of Chris’ cock and gripped the other man’s balls painfully, pulling them down as Chris let out a choked whine of pain. “I suggest you think before finishing that sentence.”

He can see Chris struggling with it, getting Wesker to slowly release enough of the rope that Chris can breathe, watching the younger man drag in huge gasps of air as he tries to calm down, the added pain from his still-aching balls and the need for release getting him to let out a frustrated sound that Wesker took as the only pleading he’d get from Chris, at least for now, regarding his painful erection. “Well, Chris? What’s your answer?”

Chris is shaking, his arms and legs visibly vibrating from the strain, his skin already slick with sweat as he manages to catch his breath, head half-lowered, barely enough to pull the rope in Wesker’s hands, his beautiful eyes a bit glazed from the pain and pleasure, but the very obvious _anger_ and _defiance_ shining as he finally levels a look at Wesker.

“go…to hell…”

=

The thick paddle hits hard, barely missing his tied and abused nuts, as Chris lets out another cry of pain. He’s long since stopped trying to hold those back after the first hit on his ass, and the new position that Wesker had pulled him into, his arms out spread-eagle and his legs now barely resting on tip-toe on the floor, while Wesker uses a hard, small paddle on his ass and back, only works to get Chris aware of how painful things are.

But the man is also holding back – he could easily break that thing on Chris with one hit, or even simply do something else to cause Chris pain and suffering, but so far it’s just been that one small paddle. The worse part is that after he took out that…that fucking _hook_ …from his ass, he’d tied up Chris’ cock and balls, so now he was well aware of being hard while also having pain shoot through him with each hit.

Chris flexes his hands, pulling at the rope holding him spread and trying to regain his footing, what little there was of it when he barely stood on the balls of his feet. The new position and stretch only served to give him more pain, reminders of the trapped position he’d been in, now contrasted to the wide, equally vulnerable state.

He yells again as a new sensation hits him, that of a leather that splits, hitting a bit high on his ass as Chris stumbles forward a bit, before he’s grabbed on his hips, the other side of his ass and side being struck hard as Chris cries out and struggles, Wesker pulling Chris back and against the man again, his cloth shirt and leather pants making Chris struggle against the hold, seeing the new thing Wesker was using on him – a leather strap with a cut down the middle, waving briefly before staying the same.

“Now really, Chris,” Wesker’s voice is hot against his ear as Chris is pulled back to where he’d started, struggling against the man despite the futility of it, “I would think you knew better by now.”

Chris kicked backwards at Wesker, managing a solid hit on his captor’s leg, getting both to stumble before Wesker grabbed it, shifting enough to let go of Chris’ torso, instead shifting and hitting the sole of his foot with the thing. Chris let out a cry of pain, struggling and yanking at it, trying to use the rope, his own strength, and what little leverage he had to at least get away from his former captain. The hold Wesker had on him grew painful as he pulled Chris back a bit more, getting the other man to stumble more and nearly fall against him again, the feel of his clothing and the hot breath against the back of Chris’ neck getting the younger man to fight.

“I asked you a simple question, Chris. Are you really so incapable of answering?”

“Go to hell,” Chris once more growled out before Wesker began to hit him again, the leather strap stinging with each hit, Wesker holding Chris’ leg up once more setting him off-balance as his ass and foot were hit, the pain getting him to struggle and fight as Wesker simply kept up with the hits, not bothering to deviate or pause unless Chris managed in a lucky kick or body move, sending the other man stumbling back before regaining his own footing and returning to hitting him, his eyes angry at Chris’ continued defiance.

 “You’re lucky I’ve been so tolerant of your insolence for so long,” Wesker growled in his ear, Chris seeing the red-yellow eyes just past his peripheral vision as he struggled, “I could have easily killed you, or better yet, sent you back to your precious group to kill a few more guards before you were shot like a diseased dog.” Chris tried to get his footing back, to lash out however he could, but Wesker’s hold on him was too tight, and he froze when the leather strap moved along his stomach and down near his hips. The nearness of his aching cock makes him let out an involuntary groan of frustration, despite the panic at the idea of being hit there. Wesker seems to take this as an invitation to use the odd angle to hit Chris’ chest, the leather strap striking his abused nipples as Chris lets out a cry as Wesker continues, each hit getting Chris to try to escape or get away from the continued pain, stopping and throwing his head back as he feels Wesker’s hand grab his balls, pulling on them painfully and overwhelming him with pain suddenly as Chris pants, his vision briefly going black as he tries to calm himself down, the sudden hit from the strap, now landing on his chest and abs as Chris curses, unable to escape Wesker’s hold on him or the strap. He can feel the other man’s erection through his leather jeans, rubbing up against Chris’ pained and bruised ass as he’s hit again and again.

“Now, are you going to answer my question,” Wesker growls in his ear as pants, sobbing at the pain and need to find release, the singing pleasure/pain that is sending confused signals to his brain and through his body, “or do you enjoy the pain so much you’ll let me continue?”

 _Question, what ques—_ Chris lets out a moan of pain as his balls are pulled downward, the feel of cloth and leather against his hurt back both painful from the pressure but…it was so nice to have that weight behind him, to know he could fall back and—

_Stop it! No, not him, not again, no no no!_

He doesn’t even realize Wesker is moving away to get something until the weight against his back is gone, leaving him to stumble and let out an involuntary whimper at the loss. He does his best to get his breath back as Wesker laughs, the sound grating on him even more than the paddle or that leather strap had before he sees what Wesker had pulled out.

It’s like a pillory, or something like those things that colonial towns or medieval places have for fun, to put in ‘bad people, only this one is different. There’s a bar on the top, and a much larger hole in the center, and it’s broken into three joints instead of just two. The two smaller holes are up, and Chris tries to move away from it, twisting as Wesker moves up to where he is, grabbing the long pole that he had Chris’ wrists tied to and pulling it forward. Chris tried to kick out at him, the movement forward and his inability to balance sent him sprawling towards the opened wooden contraption, landing against the padded area for his midsection and jolting at the renewed pain from his bruised and abused chest and abs. The top closed over him with a click as Wesker laughed, watching him try to use the new purpose and stability under him to push back or get out somehow, despite being now stretched out and caught in a heavy wooden item.

“Your focus is wavering on me, Chris,” Wesker said, disappointment thick as he moved to release one of Chris’ hands from the bar, only to pull it back and lock it in place, Chris grabbing at something metallic as his other arm received the same quick treatment, the final piece of the pillory locking in place as he struggled, trying to stand and finding himself in an awkward place, his face turning red from the rush of blood and from how vulnerable he was. Even before this, in all the other scenarios, he was never so vulnerable as now, so helpless.

His hands found the metal bar and he pulled at it, shaking as he failed to get enough pull or strength to do much to it, yelling as the leather hit his ass again, going up from there and along his exposed back.

“Do I have to dumb it down for you?” Wesker demands, kneeling to look at him as Chris drew in deep breaths, trying to get his mind to focus through the pain and lack of release that’s clouding his mind, driving his thoughts.

_Just answer it and he’ll let you…he…no, no!_

“Did you ever fuck Marini?”

_He remembers the pained look on the BRAVO team leader’s face, the anger and suspicion as he levels the gun at Chris, not letting him get a word in, before there’s a loud gunshot from behind him, and Marini gurgles, killed, muttering about umbrella…_

Chris is shaking his head, the feel of cool flesh rubbing soothing circles on his bruised back and ass getting him to relax as he hears Wesker say, “What about Frost or Vickers?”

_Jill sobbed as he wrapped his arms around her, telling him about the thing that had hunted her, about what had happened to Vickers as they tried to escape and…_

The pressure around his balls lessens, and he lets out a low moan at the feel, the sudden rush that hasn’t quite become an orgasm making his hips weekly jolt forward, the lack of pain and the start of pleasure again making it hard for him to focus on a reason to not answer those questions.

“And Speyer?”

_“That was a lucky fuckin’ shot!” Speyer crowed as their targets came back, Chris frowning at the marks and glancing over at Speyer’s own. He wasn’t lucky this time, it looked like, and the younger man groaned before the other man wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close._

_“You’re lucky you’re cute, Redfield, else that captain of yours would have your hide for the loss.”_

_“Wesker knows that I can kick your ass anytime,” Chris points out, moving away from him and playfully swatting at him. “Fine, first round’s on me.”_

_It was empty in the locker room, and Speyer walked up, cornering Chris and smiling at him. “You could pay me back some other way…”_

_“The fuck are you playing at?”_

_“Oh please. I got in touch with that old commander of yours. I know why you were really drummed out,” Speyer’s eyes traced over Chris’ body in a way that he hated, in a way that always made him avoid the clubs and what others would say about him, what--_

“Chris?” the voice was cool, interested, and—

  _“Captain Wesker!” Speyer was out of Chris’ personal space so quickly that Chris almost had to blink, glancing over at the blond man, dressed all in black, without his usual sunglasses, showing off his pale blue eyes. It only added to the annoyance he leveled at Speyer as the other man said, “I—sir, that is…”_

_“Are you bothering my pointman for another loss, Speyer?”_

_“I…”_

_“I lost this time, sir,” Chris reluctantly said, getting those cold eyes on him instead, though the uneasy feeling and skin-crawling nausea was still there. “Speyer was giving me crap for it, that’s all.”_

_Wesker glare at Speyer sent the other man running to the showers, the older man slowly walking up to Chris, but not entering his personal bubble, as if figuring out that he needed the space._

_“I don’t expect you to win each time, of course,” Wesker told him simply, a slight smile on his face, “Though I would like to hear that you win the next two times.”_

_“yessir.”_

_“I also expect that if he makes such a proposition to you again and you are uncomfortable with it, you will tell HR.”_

_Chris’ head shot up and he managed to reach and grab Wesker’s arm before he left. “Let me handle this.”_

_“Chris--.” Wesker stopped whatever he was going to say, instead nodding. “No matter what, you have a home here on STARS.”_

_It_ sounded _sincere, and Chris nodded at it, but he never talked about it again. He never_ lost _again, not to Speyer, who seemed to give him a weird look at how determined Chris was, despite the ALPHA member’s reassurance that it was simply a friendly game, to make sure his Captain wasn’t disappointed, and…_

“He never did win again…” Wesker’s hum seemed to say he knew where Chris’ headspace was, that he understood—

_No, no! It’s because of him they’re all dead! It’s because of him that Speyer was eaten by crows, Frost by those cerebus dogs, and Vickers…Vickers was…_

“f-fucking bastard, let me go,” Chris managed to sob, though he wanted to cum more than he wanted to be released. He _needed_ it, his body humming and the cool hand soothing his back, moving so close to his cock, made his body start to disobey his wishes as he struggled to get free or to get some added pressure to his—

_NO!_

“I allow some pressure to release and already you’re back to this,” Wesker said, clicking his tongue as Chris glare at him, focusing on the change – the still blond hair now almost as pale as Wesker’s skin, his eyes cat-like and red, glowing with lust instead of concern.

_You’re not him, you never were him, you were Umbrella’s puppet and you betrayed us._

“Well, I know you wouldn’t be so callous as to screw Barry,” Wesker said as Chris began to struggle, his body’s need for release now secondary to his need to escape the man, “but you haven’t answered my question about Valentine yet.” The cool hand gripped his cock, slowly pulling at it as Chris had to bite back a moan of pleasure. “I’d ask about Chambers, but she’s far too young for you, isn’t she?”

_The Captain is cold as always, as if this is a simple investigation, not something where Jill has been locked away in a coded room, where Barry is missing and possibly eaten by the monsters roaming the area, that the only member of BRAVO team left is right behind him, trembling but confident as Chris glares Wesker down when—_

“Did you screw Valentine?” the voice comes with a continued pressure along his cock, building him up again as Chris pants, hips thrusting to get more as his mind screams in protest.

_Wesker holds him up, the hold one that he can’t get out of, there’s no Alexia to distract him, and then he hears Jill, sees a blur of blue hitting Wesker hard tackling the man as he’s released and a window breaks, showering them with glass, but not enough that Chris doesn’t see them both go over the edge._

“g-go…AH!” Chris lets out a yell as pain sparks along his ass, the sudden hits of pain instead of the pleasure he’d been getting jarring for his mind, sending him reeling as he mentally fights with himself. He _needs_ to cum, but…but not at…

_Jill…_

The new wave of pain and humiliation at it, the helplessness of his position, made Chris scream and fight even more than he had when Wesker had him by the balls, struggling to find a weakness in the wood or to get enough movement that he might be able to escape again, to get out and away from all of this.

The beating stopped abruptly, Wesker’s hand going to Chris’ hair and slowly ruffling it, as if affectionately, the younger man realizing after the abrupt end of the painful onslaught that he was struggling to take in a breath, tired and worn out and shaking, wetness from sweat and tears coating his face. The lull, the calmness and quiet, the feel of someone grounding him, with a cool hand running through his hair and another rubbing his back, nearly makes Chris forget that he’s a prisoner and plaything of the sadistic fuck he’s been hunting for a little over ten years.

Wesker’s deep chuckle, as if he finds Chris’ continued defiance of him amusing, serves only to remind Chris that he can’t let himself go like that, he can’t relax around this man. He’ll get out, and before he does, he’ll kill him and finally end this madness. To kill him and put to rest all the ghosts of those who died because of this bastard.

The cool hand gently rubbed along Chris’ legs and ass, getting Chris to grit his teeth as he tried to hold in a gasp of pain at the feeling, moving blood around the abused flesh and getting his nerve endings to remind him that Wesker had barely held back on that, the other man’s strength enough to have made Chris feel like each hit was breaking skin or bones underneath, but now he could only feel the pain from bruises and the continual touching.

“I’m going to assume you’ll never answer that question, no matter what the punishment,” Wesker muses as his hand moves lower, down to Chris’ cock and around the band still holding it erect, “but you answered the other questions, at least. Bravo, Christopher. You’re coming along nicely.”

“f-fuck…off,” Chris manages to pant, trying hard to stop himself from shivering at the touch, his body wanting the feel of release. He’s shaking too hard, his mind too jumbled and his body too sensitive and hurting, for him to do much beyond take whatever Wesker gives him. The realization is enough to get another wave of anger and self-hate to coil into him like a knot. It was his own fault for getting into this mess. It was because of his hubris, his need for revenge, and now…

“Now, Chris, you were doing so well. You’re not going to make me change my mind, are you?” the voice is almost like scolding a child, and Chris would throw a glare at the man if he could see him.

“see if…if I…care.” Changing his mind or not, all Chris would get from this is pain. The only difference would be its source, and Chris wonders if getting into the infirmary would result in becoming a test subject over an unwilling fuck-buddy. It might get worse, but at least in the infirmary, there’s a chance he can escape.

Wesker is quiet, the feel of his fingers still stroking Chris’ cock making the other man warry, and he finally hears a chuckle.

“Let’s test that, then, shall we? See how much you care for one or the other.”

He feels the same warm mouth and talented tongue from before, getting Chris to curse and try to jerk his hips back, but Wesker’s hand on the base of his cock stops that, and before he knows it, he’s swallowed whole. Chris’ moan of pleasure can’t be kept in when, as Wesker pulls back a bit and then goes back up, his hand releases the band, the full burst of pleasure getting Chris to yell out at the sudden return and his body’s quick reaction, his whole body tensing up as he feels himself cum. He hears Wesker’s approved hum before Chris looks down, seeing a splattering up along where he is and feels something inside of him, the familiarity suddenly making Chris panic as he sees Wesker walk over, a smirk on his face and a remote in his hand. Chris lets out a scream as the vibrator turns on, pushed up against his prostate and set higher than before ( _last night? Yesterday? How long have I been gone?_ ) as he struggles against the wood and his restraints, the cool feel of Wesker’s hand on his cock getting him to jerk and thrust before the built-up tension from before releases again, leaving Chris to nearly fall down, feeling boneless before he heard a click as Wesker knelt next to his head, a hand going through Chris’ sweaty, messy hair as the blond man said, “See how much you can stand, and do make sure to tell me which one is better, Christopher.”

Chris didn’t get a chance to answer, the vibrator buzzing to life inside of him, stronger and faster, and he could only scream in pleasure and pain.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesker pauses in his torment of Chris to deal with a few things, but even as he works to keep things on the new course he's setting, others work to overthrow his plans for their own...

Wesker slowly pulls the vibrator out, seeing Chris’ body shake at the feel but otherwise getting no response from the other man. He’s been pushed to unconsciousness again, bruises covering his back, front, and ass from the tawse he’d used so eagerly on him. The bruises, running from simple red to black, blue, and even deep purple, colored Chris’ tanned skin well, though were obviously painful enough that a light touch to look after one area, which looked like almost a cut, made the younger man moan in pain. Wesker chuckles at bit, surprised that despite how much Chris had taken, all the abuse simply to not answer a simple question, though he supposes that it was simply the mention of Valentine that got him.

The thought makes Wesker frown as he remembers Wong’s last report. The whole situation with TRICELL was starting to make Wesker even wonder why he joined them as a ‘consultant’, where his insight had been. He supposed the win against Sergi, the deletion of the Red Queen who had kept him from the original data he’d been after, and the victory of gaining Umbrella’s data had blinded him to the issues that he should have seen before. Excella’s brilliance, mostly mental in her ability to look and solve some of the problems he gave her before they’d gotten the Plagas sample. Uroboros was a shared vision they’d had, one to cleanse the world and restart it anew, but now, other factors were starting to creep in, all of them started because of Chris and his inability to leave Wesker alone to his work.

The delay had meant that Wesker now was starting to see issues with bottlenecking populations, and even if some of the cloning processes being explored were better than others, they were still, in the long-run, not one that he wanted to try. The viruses they worked with were getting to corrupting the RNA of a being, and that would make getting and being able to use their DNA even harder if they wished to continue cloning and using those as a resource.

The next thought, of course, was work-related – rebuilding meant you needed a work group, and even with the virus now infecting less people, it still decimated the population enough that workers would either need to be gathered ahead of time and inoculated as best as possible, or cloned and hopefully not infected if they were inoculated during that process.

“All of this thought simply because I took you in and didn’t kill you,” Wesker mutters to the unconscious Chris, moving slowly to check on how the first aid spray was taking, nipping gently at Chris’ neck as the younger man lets out an involuntary moan of pleasure. “I’m sure Excella is thrilled.”

Of course, Excella also tried to clone Vickers, and the result lost them Valentine…if she’d been around still, and under their control, he could see if Chris was more willing to do whatever Wesker demanded of him, over his continued attempts to fight the inevitable.

_Everyone bends and breaks, Chris._

He puts Chris back in the cage, pausing to answer his phone when it rings, the bars locking up tight and Wesker smiling at the new addition he put on Chris before answering.

Ada’s voice is on the other line, and her tone is one of professionalism tinged with a bit of concern. “ _Did you know a woman with a last name of Muller, came from Edonia?_ ”

“Yes. Why?”

“ _How intimate were you with her? And did you know she had a son?_ ”

=

The blankets are nice, warm, and Chris nearly snuggles further into them before sharp pain brings him suddenly awake and back to his senses. He’s back in the cage again, once more in the same location, and he lets out a curse as he kicks the bars, wincing at not only the painful hit, but also at the pull. He’d almost forgotten, until he sees the still-healing bruises, that he’d been beaten black and blue by that sadist.

Chris blushes as the rest of the memories return, getting him to try to curl his hands into fists until he feels the soft cloth and leather. The…he supposed the best description for them is mittens, or like those booties that rich people put on their dogs…are tied around his wrists and hold his hands flat, trapped and unable to even bend.

The next three minutes, until thirst demands he drag himself over to the water bowl and drain that, is spent attempting to get the damned things off, and letting out a yell of frustration and pain. He has to be on his back in order to try, and the whole of it is one gigantic bruise of varying colors and pain. He almost wants the pain, if only to remind himself of his need to escape, that it will only get worse from here.

_How will it get worse? And what will you tell the BSAA when you get back? “Sorry it’s only me, I had to drag in four others to get gang-raped by Wesker’s men because I thought I could take them on my own. Because I can’t trust anyone but Jill after that traitor Jessica that you all purposefully gave me and--”_

Chris let out a frustrated groan, wishing his mind wouldn’t move to such things and he could simply focus on what he needed to do. He needs to escape, he needs to get out of here, and he especially needs to get his dumb ass back to maybe go through whatever testing had to be done so he could get back out on the field, if he didn’t kill Wesker on his way out.

_If you get out._

Chris lets out a frustrated and annoyed groan as he sees the water has refilled, shifting to get another drink as his stomach growls out its own complaint. It’s been a bit since he’s had actual food, never mind rations or something that could keep up for calories, and despite being pinned down or unable to move for most of the last…few sessions…that didn’t mean Chris wasn’t feeling the fatigue from all that had happened, enough to try the broth-soup thing again and push past his gag reflex at the taste. He needed something besides water, and since this was only foul-tasting and watery, but still somehow substantial, he could deal with it. Hell, he’d had to snack on worse things during his SERE training, so he could power through some of this.

Less than half was the amount before he needed to simply drink as much water as possible to get the taste off his tongue, and then take a longer moment to not retch up the stuff either. At least it didn’t refill like the water did, but that thought also didn’t quite help Chris. Both were fixed to the ground, and he disliked having to get any sort of food this way, not to mention the humiliation of kneeling like a dog just to get something to keep himself going.

Chris finally let himself lay back on the nest of blankets, exhausted and annoyed as he glared at the things covering his hands and hindering his escape, doing his best to not look over at the four-post bed that Wesker will probably move him to at some point, or at the other items that had been used to torture him. The memories cause him to shiver, the feel of the blankets reminded him that he was still naked, still vulnerable, still at the mercy of the sadist.

_I almost got out. I almost did. I know where I’m going now. I can get out this time._

He doesn’t know how long before Wesker comes back, and hates that his sense of time has been so easily fucked with. Without sunlight or any general idea of where he is or what’s going on, he’s not going to be able to guess the time or if he’s in another base or not, though considering what he’d seen when…when the _thing_ had been…

Chris cleared his mind, trying hard to not think about the lattice-work monster that had nearly killed him, or what happened afterwards. He instead focuses on what little he’d seen of his surroundings – that it had been a train car of sorts, for transporting samples or specimens if the fact he was hooked up to a hospital bed or something similar. So it was a different base, but if he was lucky it’d be with less men than before, or at least with less of a perimeter and more likely hidden in some super villain style lair.

_Yeah, meantime you can just give up information about who you fucked while in STARS._

Chris did his best to ignore that, trying to focus on sleep and recovering, being ready to get out next time, over his mind’s hateful remarks. He knew he betrayed them – Marini, Vickers, even Speyer – all because his mind had been weak, because at that point his body demanded something and he’d been unable to keep himself composed.

_Jill…I didn’t give up Jill._

Chris held onto that small beacon, wishing it was enough. Some part of him wondered what the point was – Jill was dead, Wesker had lived and now was going to torture Chris until he either broke or became useless to him – but every other part of him wouldn’t give her up. If Wesker survived, she…she might have too.

 _And what would that mean, Chris?_ A voice that sounded too much like Wesker’s cooed in his mind, _That she’d have been with Wesker, and if he has all this for_ you _, what did he do to_ her _?_

The thought nearly does make him sick as he closes his eyes and curls up as much as he can in the confined space, mentally exhausted and physically unable to do much but try to keep himself warm.

  _Jill, Barry…Claire…help…_

=

“Your son could easily be an asset to our cause,” Excella argues, upset at being interrupted, and equally upset that her decision to get Jake Muller, the son of Albert Wesker, to Africa on promises of riches is now hamstringed because someone in her organization told on her. Recalling Jessica was risky too – the woman was able to do a great deal, but it would be one more person who was enamored with Wesker’s toy.

“I appreciate your focus, but if I have had no use for him in all these years, what makes you think I need him around now?” She wants to ask about that, though she also wonders if he even knew about Muller before the tell went out to him. She can now see Lenka’s thought in directing Wesker to ‘play’ with Redfield, though Excella almost wishes it had been the same as when they’d gotten Valentine. At least then, their research and plans could continue, but now? All she saw of the trapped man was that he was unremarkable – strong, able to build muscle and to use it, but overall unremarkable, unimaginative, and far, FAR too much trouble for them to keep around. Before his capture, he’d been responsible for the loss of multiple bases, and now he was responsible for the loss of another one, and their need to head to Kijuju. That meant dealing with Irving, as well as having to push her own plans up, plans that were now being hampered by Alber’s refusal to simply think of her and her potential.

Excella huffs in answer to his point, “You’ve been distracted by your captive, I wished to take initiative while you were…busy.”

 “So you busied yourself with getting a genetic match to Wesker, did you?” Lenka asked, getting Excella to glare at him, “I suppose if the original doesn’t work, you can always try the knock-off.”

“You--.”

“Enough,” Wesker’s growl was enough to silence them both, Excella swallowing as the dark glasses turn to her, the glare obvious despite how dark the glasses are, obscuring his eyes “Bringing Jake into this now will only make things complicated, and I would rather he not be known to the wider world at this point, let alone at all.”

“Simmons knows of him,” she tells him, playing the one card she has left, “and he has Birkin’s daughter.”

Maybe she can pass this off – after all, Wesker had been given the Prototype before having Muller, if she recalls, so those genes might be in the boy. Different, better antibodies to use…

“All the better to have her and Jake meet, isn’t it?” He asks, getting her to blink at him, hands clenching behind her back while she thinks. The other Prototype-carrier in the world, Albert, and the only G-virus survivor, the children of Wesker and Birkin would only be as distracting to Albert as this current unimportant man taking up his time.

 _No…they will be experiments, and their bodies will be experimented on until Uroboros is perfected. Until_ my _virus is perfected, for_ my world _, with my Albert, and our children…until then, I will not allow any other distractions for my Albert._

=

There was that thought of what they could do, and briefly, Wesker allows a part of his mind to wander, to think on what getting Sherry and Jake would mean for his new, more complex plans.

_Will…your daughter will have my son to protect her, like I couldn’t protect you, and they and their children will inherit the Earth._

_Our grandchildren, the inheritors of the Prototype and the G-virus, will be the ones who claim godhood and dominion over man._

“How is the newest strain of Plagas and Uroboros?” Wesker ignores Excella’s obvious upset at the news of her not only being unable to get to Muller, but also noting a strange look in her eye, one that made his decision when she’d first began to flirt with him all the more reasonable, now that he saw this side of her. The lack of willingness to share had only ever ended badly for the others he’d known in Umbrella, and now here, as the black market for BOWs grew. The lack of understanding and her obvious use of her physical attributes, rather than more of her mental ones, only left him feeling cold. Excella had been given everything – Chris had had to give up on dreams to provide for his sister and himself, and now fought against the odds. Magdalina had been able to travel to the US on her own, and her choice to return had been her own as well, even if most of that was due to Wesker’s general disregard of her at the time. Of all three, he’d take the mother of his child, as well as the one he is currently taming, over Excella any day.

“Stable, and the young man retained his mind well enough to be a sleeper agent, or at least get in and possibly infect others. No more vaccinations through Irving.” Lenka made a face as Excella let out a sigh.

“The man wants money and he would have put anything besides vaccinations into those vaccines, if it meant lining his own pocket. At least this gets us a stable and diverse population to look at.”

“I am sure if it was a village in Italy, you’d feel the same way,” Lenka said, getting Excella to start cursing at him in Italian before Wesker’s glare quieted them both. He glanced at Excella, motioning, as she said, “The modifications to the serum are so far good, but because it’s based on adrenaline, we will have to create a method of continual delivery. The few we’ve found worked best would have to be ideally placed on the upper back or chest area, to allow delivery in a good enough dose that it would be viable.”

Wesker nods, tapping his finger against his thigh. They’d wanted to test that one out on Valentine when she escaped, but for now, this will have to work. “You tested your two subjects to their limits then?”

She shakes her head. “They’re both still alive and able to take another few tests. They would also be best to use to infiltrate and get Birkin from her keepers.”

Sherry had been willful as a child, he doubted her retainers would be able to hold onto her if she didn’t want to stay with them, but…

“Ensure its ability for now, I will need to get some information and a note for our dear Sherry. I’ve my own agent to send in and check on my son, so I will take care of that part for now. Meanwhile, I would like to look over the plan for the Uroboros release again.”

Excella looked upset, as if the prospect of getting two children with viruses and antibodies as stable and dangerous as the t-virus ones she’d been playing with wasn’t enough. “What do you mean?”

“We have the current plan, we have no plan for after the infection.” Lenka and she looked at him, as if he was insane, and he glances at them both, curious. “Do we have a plan, or do you simply think that we can remake humanity with a virus that adapts and infects things so quickly?”

“The G-virus is about as quick to adapt as well,” Lenka said, seeming ready to argue for their original plan of no plan at all, “and--.”

Excella, though, seemed to now have a new idea, if the sudden brightness in her eyes was any indication. “But it also is from the t-virus, or at least is a mutation of it that came from one of the experiments and became a more virulent strain. So it _may_ be good against the Uroboros, or it may simply create more problems.”

Wesker said nothing, allowing the two to argue. He had a sample of the G-virus, taken from Birkin in his maddened state, but not the antibodies that worked through Sherry’s body. As he’d seen with Jill, simply having the virus was not quite enough – the antibodies and cure would also result in far more information about the virus than anything else.

It also gave Excella and Lenka something to focus on, while Wesker continued with his own plan. Breaking Chris was a good start, but he would need something else as well. After all, if his children and grandchildren would rule over man, they needed a protector, someone who would be loyal and protective of them, no matter what, and if anything, someone who might also add in his genetics to give them children gifted in their own way. For all Chris couldn’t see the big picture now, he would, and maybe Simmons’ cloning could give him something…new, rather than what Simmons _really_ wanted.

“Excella, how easily can you get a mole into Simmons’ group?”

Excella frowns, the two interrupted and she shifting a bit before saying, “I have one. Why?”

“I would like to see what he has done. After all, it’s my operative he’s so keen on screwing. Maybe if he gets help in what he wants, we’ll have one less bit of competition.”

Really, he doubts that, but knowing he can get to Simmons and kill him at any moment is a far better feeling then leaving that last loose end.

=

“And where has your smug attitude gone?” Lenka asks after Wesker finally leaves back to his ‘subject’, a full two days later. He’s been testing a few things and checking up on other areas, and apparently has taken great joy in simply monitoring the other man while asking questions and looking over their work.

It’s both a relief and infuriating, but now that he’s gone, and with things progressing exactly as Lenka expected, he can now speak to Gionne alone. She’s had enough time to get her feathers ruffled as well.

“I would ask you the same thing,” Excella growls at him as she finishes up her report, “You were so invested in having him find and take that Redfield, you didn’t seem to think about what it would mean for the operation as a whole.”

He gave her a sly smile. “Didn’t I? I should also point out, Wesker comes from the breeding of a man who believed in eugenics from the older status, where we were a more…ape-like race.”

She frowned at him. “You’re a liar, and you have been since I met you. Who would name their child ‘taker’?”

“Enough people would,” Lenka said with a shrug, “and besides, you were perfectly happy to take in Wesker, who didn’t give you the time of day.”

“What makes you better?”

He gave her a smirk, the same one as he normally did when he was about to tell her something, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Her eyes went wide as she looked over at him, Lenka holding up a small MO disk for her. “Take it and see. It will…open up possibilities, to say the least.”

She glanced at the disk, then at him, and finally asked, her voice low and sultry, heavily accented with her natural Italian, “What type of possibilities?”

“Possibilities that any children from Muller and Birkin will not allow to happen, and…another test subject, so we can see exactly what it is that Albert likes about our captive BSAA agent.”

She snorts, then motions to a crafted silver item to one side. “If all goes well, we’ll still need him.”

“You’d better be sure it works, then, shouldn’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Ok, now what?  
> Muses: Plot.  
> Me: ....why?  
> Muses: Simple, we need a reason for more plot later. and porn. also lookit Jake and Sherry and Piers, aren't they cute together?  
> me: ..............................................  
> Muses: _LOVE THEM_


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris gets some food, and learns some very disturbing things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: Ok...I can play the first game...or watch the video version of RE5  
> also me: *cues up RE5 'movie' from cutscenes*

Chris has no idea how long Wesker’s gone for, only that it’s long enough that he manages to drain the horrible-tasting broth, and that he finds the place to go to the bathroom, much to his embarrassment. The hole is the floor is near enough to his blankets that he’d missed it the first time, and it’s enough to cause Chris to blush deeply each time he’s force to go.

The reprieve is still something that Chris is fine with, though. After all, so long as he’s alone, even if just with his thoughts, he can start to heal and he can get his strength back. Whatever it is that’s distracting Wesker from him is probably some world-ending nightmare, and if Chris is able to get out of here, kill Wesker, and get back to the BSAA, the information might easily save lives.

_Or they could see it as you being turned by the man._

Chris shoved that thought aside. Wesker had said it had only been a day since his capture, but…some part of Chris felt like it was longer. He can’t trust the man about the timing – he knows he was unconscious for an undetermined amount of time after being caught, and that for at least 8 hours – or more, considering a small rescue team was mobilized and captured – he was under that drug’s thrall and…

So that meant that if anything, when he was moved to this room and the second time that…

The time Wesker had used the rope and…

 _He tormented me for at least two days,_ Chris finally settles on, unable to visit those memories with shaking, anger and self-hatred boiling to the surface with each review of them. Because of him, the others had been captured and were probably being tortured, if not used for experiments.

_So I was gone for maybe ten hours top? How did they find me so quickly?_

His fear builds as he kicks at the bars, though they are once more as solid as before, realizing what it might mean, but…

_Jessica was the traitor. There can’t be another one. There can’t be._

Chris pushed it out of his mind, thinking back to the new lack of time. He can only think that it’s been about a day or two since Wesker decided to leave him alone. In all, that means he’s been here for maybe five days tops, four if he’s lucky.

He once more pulls at the mitten-things that he’s had on his hands for the past…two days? He can at least still feel his fingers, despite the fact that he hasn’t been able to pull the damned things off yet, and once his back stopped hurting as much, Chris _had_ tried. The result was left red and near-bleeding around his wrists, and he’d had to stop before he hurt himself too much. He didn’t need to be hurt if it meant that he could escape and still use his hands.

The sound of the door opening suddenly catches Chris’ attention, getting him to look over as a few people move the torture devices out of the way, instead putting in a table and some weird chair that he’s sure will be the next bit of torment for him. At least it had a full seat, from what he could see, but he didn’t look forward to whatever it was that Wesker had planned for him. Even if it wasn’t as physically demanded and demeaning as the last go, Chris had no doubt that Wesker was going to do something to mentally unbalance him, probably to get more recent information out of him.

 _Yes, because knowing if you fucked your now-deceased coworkers on the old team is_ important _._

Chris doubts it was for any other reason than to simply upset him, to show power over Chris when his mind and body had finally gotten to where the pain and…where the pain had simply gotten to be too much and he’d give in to Wesker’s questions. It was something that Chris _knew_ , he _knew_ because he’d taken multiple survival trainings and they _always_ said that. Capture would sometimes result in breaking, that holding out as long as you could didn’t always mean you wouldn’t break, but if Chris’ mental calculations and his worry was right, then whatever long-game Wesker was planning, he planned on making sure that Chris was broken before he did anything else.

_Fuck._

The sound of the door opening one that Chris could see was the door that he should have gone for the last time he’d been able to run, Wesker walking in with a few others behind him, carrying trays to set down before the tall, high-back chair that Chris knows is for his torture, and other chair, just as ornate but at least with arms to it. Wesker allows them to set it up before walking over to Chris, once more pulling out a long strange of rope, as if lassoing him while he tried to escape was fun entertainment before dinner. Chris tensed, glancing over to see the door to freedom wide open, getting him to narrow his eyes and glare at Wesker.

“Are you upset that I left you alone for so long?” Wesker chided, sounding like Chris’ silence was because he was angry at the lack of ‘attention’ over Chris’ silent thoughts on how best to escape. He doubts he’ll get far, or that the men who had brought in the food weren’t just waiting outside of that door, ready to catch Chris if he did run. He’s not about to give up, and he’s certainly not about to give in to Wesker, no matter what the odds.

=

Chris takes off for the open door the moment the cage is down, and though it’s obvious he’s not sure what he’ll do when he gets there, or how he’ll fight off the guards, he’s obviously determined to escape.

Wesker gets him before he gets halfway there, the obvious plan of escape not a very good one, though even weakened by lack of substantial food and with no way to tell how many days it had been, Chris is still strong and able to fight back, a kick to his solar plexus having winded Wesker, but not enough to allow Chris to escape being pulled back to the table, struggling and kicking before he’s made to sit at the chair, hands pulled through specially made slots and tied into place, holding them in place while Wesker ties the rest of Chris to the chair, despite his struggles.

“You’ve recovered well, I see,” Wesker tells him as he removes the gloves, briefly inspecting Chris’ hands and nails as the younger man tries to scratch and gouge his fingers, obviously happier about the freedom than the inspection. “I wonder why people keep comparing you to a dog, though. You’re so obviously a cat.” The glare he gets is enough to get Wesker to smile at him again, taking off his sunglasses as Chris keeps his gaze, not even flinching when the cat-like eyes look at him. “Yes, a half-feral cat, just as willing to bite as to purr. But with time, you can be tamed again.”

Chris’ glare is rather lovely, though now Wesker doesn’t wonder if perhaps he’s more like those Servals that have been mentioned – the half-wild cats, bred with domestic ones and only loyal to one person, if at all. _I wonder if adding in that DNA would make Chris harder to deal with, or easier._

It was a moot point, though one that now had Wesker wondering. If he wanted, he could always clone Chris and add in that DNA, see what the results were. He’s sure that Chris would mind greatly, of course, but the data from it is always worth any discomfort from Chris. At the same time, Wesker is beginning to find his time with Chris to be almost soothing, the thought of how to not only break Chris but also to have fun with him.

Of course, he also now has to worry about his findings as well, and will have to see if they’re truthful.

_After I’m done with this._

Wesker uses the leather straps the lock Chris’ head in place, the younger man letting out a sort of growl that only gets Wesker to smirk at it, running his hand once more through Chris’ hair as the other man struggles to move in the chair, caught and the trap allowing Wesker more freedom to explore his body, smiling as he sees Chris’ cock twitch a bit when Wesker’s hand gets close, the look of resentment, horror, and outrage once more playing through Chris’ face as Wesker chuckles.

“You’ve been good enough to get me men to work with, and you’ve been a very good subject to my own experiments,” Wesker mutters his praise, even as Chris glares at him. Before, in Raccoon City, such praise would have gotten him that happy look that he always had, would have gotten Chris to work harder to ensure he managed to get better, to keep up the standard set for him, “I suppose I’ll have to give you something you’ll like.” Wesker did remember that Chris liked this particular stew that he had, and what information he still had on the former STARS agent was no different. Opening up the top gets Chris to swallow before looking away, attempting to shake his head and instead growling out, “Not hungry.”

“No?” Wesker asks, stirring the soup a bit and allowing the aroma to reach Chris, barely hearing his stomach react with an unhappy gurgle. “Pity, but I would still want you to try it. After all, I can’t have you failing on me just yet, Chris. We’ve so much more to do.”

“Take a long walk off a short pier,” Chris growls in response as Wesker moves, shifting and taking a seat on Chris’ lap, the pressure holding him down even more as Chris struggles to try to get away.

“Resorting to childish taunts instead of your usual choices? I expect better from you, though I will admit, I’d also much rather you at least telling me what is going on.” He stirs the stew again, Chris swallowing again as Wesker says, “You either eat of your own volition, or I’ll call in my servants to _make_ you eat. What’s your choice?”

Chris’ jaw moves a bit, his eyes glaring down Wesker’s, and the blond man lets out a slight sigh, putting the soup down and letting out a low whistle for the attendants. One comes in quickly, the others a bit slower due to the advancement of the virus. The Majini, as the locals called them, were easily controlled by a strong-willed being, but reacted better to a Plagas or Uroboros carrier, at least generally. They seemed to react a specific way to a Prototype-carrier, and even with only two days to work with the men he’d found, Wesker had discovered a few very interesting things, things and implications that made his time with Chris all the more valuable.

_At least I still control the data, and was already prepared to escape Excella’s hold on me before I even found Chris. Now, I only have to make sure that he’s not taken by Lenka as well._

Chris struggles as the men gather around, one finally prying his jaw open so another can push in the spider-gag that Wesker had found, Chris’ coughing and moans at the intrusion and use of such an instrument enough to get Wesker to smile before he waved the men away, sitting back on Chris’ lap and once more stirring the stew. At least it didn’t have too big of chunks, and the broth was hardy enough for him at the moment. “You’re still so willful, still believing that you can escape. I’ve some lovely things for you to see after lunch.” Chris’ glare and near-growl as he tried to move his head more, the leather straps used to hold it in place not letting him move more than an inch to either side as Wesker slowly got a bit of the stew and put it in.

Chris gagged on it, coughing and struggling more as Wesker chuckled at his discomfort. “You decided to make things hard for yourself, Christopher, you only have yourself to blame.” There was a sound that was probably Chris trying to curse at him, but Wesker ignored it in favor of giving him more of the soup. “It’s always so nice to see that you at least learn from some of your mistakes,” Wesker says as Chris fails to choke again, earning him a glare from the former pointman as Wesker continues, speaking as if they were having an actual dinner or chat. He wonders if he has the time to tame Chris enough for that to happen.

_I’ll have to deal with Lenka and Excella first, as well as Simmons, but Chris can help with that. At least then, we’ll have Jake and William’s daughter here, and we can begin our plans from there._

_I won’t simply go off of that old man’s dreams. My own, with the few people I can trust, will be enough._

Not for the first time, Wesker regrets not simply bringing in the ALPHA and BRAVO group into his confidences before the Umbrella test, or the ‘accidental’ test that the Leech had created, and having them go through it, knowing that at least they were going to get the information on Umbrella out of Sergi’s hands. If he’d had more time to train and care for Chris, perhaps now he wouldn’t be so willful.

Chris is obviously paying attention to what he’s saying, at least, though Wesker doubts it’s because he cares about it. No, Chris thinks he can easily figure out what Wesker is up to, or take the information back to his new masters and they’ll give him a treat, like the good dog they treat him as. He’s see that Chris is working hard, doing his best to run Wesker and any other bioterrorist raggad, after Jill’s ‘death’. He debates on how soon he should tell Chris of her actual life, as well as what he’s done to her, but truthfully, it would be that much more…painful, and jarring, if he knews only that Jill was alive and Wesker had ‘terminated’ her projects.

No need to go into Excella’s lack of discipline, not unless he can get some footage of Vickers only, and the clone’s untimely death.

“I’ve a few things to show you, since you’re all done,” Wesker said, putting the plate down and once more signaling the Majini to come in. They’re effective, working around Wesker to take off the spider-gag before putting on a new, more traditional ball one, Chris letting out a growl around it as he struggled again, the leather keeping his head still as Wesker reaches up to run a hand through Chris’ hair. The motion makes the younger man snarl and struggle, still trying to escape his bonds as Wesker says, “Now, watch the little show I have put together for you, and if you watch everything completely, I may even give you a treat.” The promise does little to stop Chris from glaring at Wesker as he smiles back at him, moving to his own chair to start his more decadent lunch as he starts the show. He can see Chris’ eyes laser-focus on the man that Wesker speaks to – he’s a known information for the BSAA, but at the right price, he easily sells the information of what Chris is doing, and just easily acts as a lure for Chris and the four-man team.

Chris lets out various muffled yells as the scenes play out, seeing when Wesker got his men in one easy fell swoop, watching the continued attention the others had given them after Wesker had left with Chris, and finally onto Excella and Wesker’s own experiments with them.

Wesker finishes his dinner as Chris lets out a choked sob, cursing and struggling more in the chair as Wesker glances at the feed. Ah, it’s on the new strain of Uroboros that the blond one had been given, seeing the man’s form now twisted by the disease as he attacks one of the other prisoners thrown in, exploring it briefly before a hissing sound, close to Chris’ own name, is let out before the new attack begins. “Your little blonde one has taken a shine to men of your build,” he mutters, walking to run a hand through Chris’ hair again, debating on if he should take Chris in the shower or simply hose him down. The thought of having Chris against the wall of the shower, naked and wet, screaming as he’s once more filled and shown how he belongs to Wesker alone, nearly settles things, though Chris’ panting and growls also do wonders as well. “I’m also beginning to notice some rather interesting changes in my newest creations.” Chris eyes briefly dart to Wesker before they see the process starting, the man letting out screams for help as he’s slowly filled, his stomach growing larger as the newest of the half-fertilized beings are pushed in, the sucker pulling at the man’s dick beginning to pull more, a long tube inserting itself before the man’s scream is cut off with another thick tentacle pushed in, pulsing a few times as he begins to fall lax.

“We’ll have to see if this one survives while near its parent,” Wesker tells him, cutting off the feed as he sees Chris shake in anger, his hands curled into fists behind the chair. He glares at Wesker when he walks into his line of view, not even unnerved by the smile on Wesker’s face. “The others are nearly done with testing, but the last…we’ll soon learn what he does at the BSAA branch he came from, and I’m sure they’ll enjoy hearing his testimony about what happened before the virus activates.” Horror and shock fills Chris’ eyes, Wesker leaning in near his ear to whisper, “I’ll enjoy reading _that_ report to you out loud, Christopher. Do make sure you’re here when that happens.”

=

Chris can’t move, can barely _think_ , as he struggles to focus at Wesker’s sinister promise, the hot breath against his ear and reminding him of what he’d just witnessed, of how he’s trapped with this madman and because of his mistake, because he didn’t vet one man, he’s now going to cause more deaths, more infections. Zane’s transformation into something less than human, sticky black and with barely any humanity left, save for his face and torso, the blond hair matted with black goo…

_My fault…they followed me, and I lead them into this trap, it’s my fault…_

The moment he feels that cold hand touch him, Chris goes off, struggling and screaming in anger as he pulls and fights against the bonds and the chair, straining as he struggled to get free and get at Wesker, seeing him laugh as he watches Chris’ fighting to get at him, to murder the man who had done this to his men, who’d taken Jill’s life and now countless others, hoping to get his hands around his neck.

Wesker watches until Chris tires himself out, panting and struggling to draw in breath through his nose and around the gag, still screaming himself hoarse at the man who’d so hurt his men, who’d betrayed him and so many others, who now had so much control over him.

_Your hubris got them here, your belief that you could take Wesker down on your own, not get anyone else hurt. See what that brought about? How many more dead now because you gave him an active BSAA agent to infect?_

Chris’ struggles slowly gave out as he let out another frustrated cry, fighting the bonds while Wesker simply watched and smirked, walking over to take off the leather straps holding Chris head still and grip his chin, a dangerous look in his red, cat-like eyes as he watches Chris continue to struggle. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy seeing the other experiments as well, Chris, but for now, I think I’m going to make sure you know who is in charge.”

Chris’ curses at him are muffled by the gag and too hoarse from his earlier screams to do much, though it gets Wesker to smirk a bit as he lovingly runs a hand down Chris’ cheek, the cold feel of the skin making Chris wince and try to move away, the rough hold of the other one keeping him still. Chris shivers as the hand moves down from his face along his neck, tracing his collarbone and along his straining shoulders.

“I’m going to have to do a little experiment with you,” he whispers, leaning in again to breathe in Chris’ ear, nipping it briefly as Chris struggles again, tired out from his fight, pain starting to register in his shoulders, wrists, and legs. His arms are already sore, strained by the angle, and the rope chafes as he continues to fight, trying to pull away from Wesker and his poor attempts at seduction. “I think you’re going to enjoy this, Chris.”

Chris shakes his head, pulling at his bonds and hating the pain he felt, the lack of give, and the continued smile that Wesker gives him as he calls in the guards that had helped him put that torture-device of a gag. All of them have a sickly pale to their skin, a sure sign they’re infected with something, and the crazed looks on their eyes reminds Chris of the information that Kennedy had dropped on them, after rescuing the president’s daughter from the Spanish island and the strange infection there.

“I’m sure that Kennedy was good enough to give you a report, but just in case he missed a few points, after his touching reunions,” Chris glared as Wesker waved, as if explaining a case or their plan of attack, as if it hadn’t been a decade or more since his betrayal, “Plagas was an inelegant but rather fascinating virus. Unlike the more virulent strains you’ve seen from Umbrella and the others, it does have a type of coding that becomes _very_ useful in some cases.” He motions as the infected men walk over, beginning to touch and pull at Chris’ ropes as he struggles against them, the strain from his earlier, hate-filled try to get at Wesker still making him tired. “It does, however, have a few extra benefits. For one, our dear creations, while mindless in a way, will follow a stronger-variant Plagas, or, as I’ve found, someone with a stronger virus.” The continued stimulation was maddening, getting Chris to fight as he did, panting at the continued stimulation while Wesker watches, not touching him, not moving near him, his red eyes on him and making Chris realize what he’s doing as he shakes his head. “None of the other strains are quite as pure or as…interesting…as the Prototype, but all bow to me. I don’t need to modify myself any further, it would seem, though I’m sure you knew that already.”

Chris tries to breath in even gasps, tries to focus on anything else but the fact that he’s being manhandled, that Wesker is mentioning the things that he holds sway over, that no matter what was going on he wasn’t getting hard ( _good, why should I react to something like this?_ ) and that Wesker is watching him like this is…important. Chris struggles hard as the touches and fondling become painful, getting him to nearly let out a scream as one of the infected pulls his head back, something seeming to come out of its throat – no, growing out, Chris doing his best to move away as began to see the outline of sharp teeth and starting to spread the infected man’s jaw wider then it should go, his throat bulging with the intrusion before there’s a sound like a whistle, angry but clear. Most of the infected stop what they’re doing and move away, save for the one near his throat, which is starting to make a weird sound, almost like a scared or angry animal. Chris fights as best as he can to get away from both, surprised when Wesker’s pale hand grabs the other man, easily stopping whatever he was doing as instead he growls low in his throat. The infected man whimpers, moving away quickly, further than the others, as Wesker’s eyes briefly glow before he smirks, as if amused.

“So that was an effect,” Wesker notes quietly, almost amused, as he glances back at Chris. Panic builds in Chris as he continues to fight against the binding, Wesker moving over and running a hand along the side of his head, using his strength to push Chris back and once more get into his space, letting out a low, near-animalistic growl as he moves his other hand down along Chris’ side, stroking along his muscles and pecks, pinching and rolling Chris’ nipple between his fingers as he undulated his hips against Chris’ thighs and his trapped cock, getting Chris to barely suppress a moan of pleasure.

_No! fuck, what’s going on?_

“It seems,” Wesker’s voice was heavy with lust and hot against Chris’ ear, the movement calming a bit as Chris let out a moan of panic and fear instead of the pleasured one that his body had nearly betrayed him with, “that your body is mine now, Chris. We’ll just have to work on getting your mind caught up with it, won’t we?” Chris tried to shake his head before he felt Wesker bite down hard on his shoulder, enough that Chris couldn’t help but let out a muffle scream of pain. Wesker was biting through his shoulder, almost to the bone, and Chris briefly saw white before he blacked out.

=

Wesker slowly licked some of the blood off of Chris’ shoulder, enjoying the coppery taste as he considers the implications of what this meant. With the Uroboros that had originally tried to strangle Chris, Wesker had simply destroyed it before playing with him, not even bothering to fuck him until he couldn’t see straight, but then again, he’d _just_ done that – had not only thrown Chris to other men, but then had Chris give him head while ensuring Chris also helped take that blonde man’s mouth. Now, after two days of no attention given to Chris, of simply feeding him and seeing him explode after he saw what had become of the team sent to rescue him, realizing that not only had Chris been given bad information, but there was no way to actually have saved that team, marked for experimentation?

He knew that the drug was odd, but now he has confirmation that it had other properties. Properties that Lenka was testing on _Wesker_ , though for what purpose, Wesker had yet to figure out completely, not without making it appear as if he was more enamored with Chris, more focused on him, then on his work. He’d started to guess at Lenka’s motivations when he saw the composition of the drug he and his men freely used on their playmates, but seeing it in Chris and his reactions also made Wesker question what, exactly, Lenka was working on and hiding.

It would mean Uroboros would suffer, but Wesker is fine with that. The strain is a massive mistake, he can see that now. So many of them were so focused on simply destroying the world, instead of making sure that there were enough to ensure a good work-force, perhaps even a continued resistance, and maybe some extra ‘others’ to play between the two. He needed to be smarter than Spencer, than Umbrella, than even the bioterrorists he had under his employ. Money would get Irving so far, but a crisis like the one in Spain? That had global implications of destroying the whole of the Human race, or at least creating another bottleneck.

He chuckles as he looks back up at Chris, unconscious from the pain, and moves to undo and pull out the ball gag, kissing him softly, smiling as he sees the blood now staining his lips red. He has to smile as he moves to pull Chris out of the chair, seeing the bloodstain on it as he tells the Majini servants, “Clean this up, then report to Lenka for new work.” The one who’d attempted to claim Chris remains a bit behind the others, obviously unnerved and unwilling to get too close to them again, causing Wesker to wonder if he shouldn’t just kill the man and see what there is to that behavior, but it’s easier to keep them viable for transformations and other research if they’re alive and cowed. He growls at the Majini when he tries to get too close to Chris and the chair – Wesker would like to keep it, to clean and put Chris on for his own entertainment, since it’s proven so useful in keeping Chris still to see the data that, Wesker knows, will break him.

_His body is mine. I just need to make his mind a bit more…subdued._

But first, he’ll wash Chris up, and make sure the mark he wanted to leave on him days ago is now visible and prominent, a sign to all that Chris Redfield was _his_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wesker is a bit possessive of Chris...

It was the wet, warm spray of water and the gentle rub of soap through his hair that slowly brought Chris out of pain-filled unconsciousness, his mind briefly shorting at the stabs of pain that came from his shoulder and upper back. The memory of why he’s in such pain, of what happened, of his body’s betrayal and Wesker’s sudden, vicious bite. He has to close his eyes again as he feels water and suds fall down, some getting in and irritating his eyes as he hears a ‘tsk’ of annoyance.

It’s the same sound he made when someone asked a dumb question, or when Speyer had made a bad call. Chris gotten it multiple times from all the shoddy paperwork he’d turned in, when he’d been unable to find the words to explain what happened. It was the same sound that he’d heard before the mansion, that had made Chris feel like he had to do better, and now…now Chris wanted to attack the man, to kill the man who’d lead them into that trap and had been willing to leave them there to die.

Soft cuffs stop him from pulling away trapping him as he’s stuck standing, leaned up against a wall or pole or something, and he feels Wesker’s hand on the back of his head, washing off the remains of the shampoo or whatever he’d rubbed into Chris’ hair. “I could always just spray you down and take you again,” he mutters, Chris finally opening his eyes and glaring up at the man, seeing the red-colored water below him and feeling the sting of pain still from the mark. “Allow me to be generous, Chris. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the break before I turn my attention to you again.”

“fucking bastard,” Chris breaths out, throat sore from his rage, his mind remembering what he’d seen, what Wesker had shown him. His mind replays it again, as he again sees the information broker selling the BSAA the information they need, Chris taking it and going out on his own, and the other four taking the false-then-true information, of Chris’ capture, and being captured themselves. He’d not vetted the information properly, had been so blinded by his own success and by his need to make the world safe, to destroy the bio-terrorists, to defeat Wesker for all he’d done and to take out the remaining vestiges of Umbrella, that he’d not even seen the trap where it’d been so openly laid down. “I’ll kill you for what you’ve done!”

“Still upset over your blonde coworker?” Wesker asks as he pulls up Chris’ head by his wet hair, the grip tight as Chris lets out a groan of pain, the pull against his still-open and bleeding wound sending a shot of pain through his back and shoulder. “Would you rather be the one taken and impregnated? Or the one doing the impregnating?” he smirked at Chris, the water flowing over his blond locks, making them fall down a bit from their usual slicked-back style, his eyes still cat-like and red, his skin still paler than a normal human’s would be.

_Like a walking corpse._

“I’ve so much to try on you, Chris,” the promise and proximity only serves to make Chris nearly struggle more before Wesker’s other hand, wet with soap, comes down on the bite and squeezes, getting Chris to let out a surprised cry of pain. “I think we’ll go for a few more days than before. You’re mine, Chris – your body is mine, and I will not stop until your mind is as well.”

Chris panted as the grip tightened, the inhuman strength making him see stars, not just from the pain of the bite, but as his bones were squeezed to the point of breaking. “Never…never, you bastard…”

Wesker’s hand tightened sharply and twisted, making Chris once more black out from the pain again as he tried to hold on, to fight, but the sensory overload making his mind simply short out. When he woke up again, he was on a medical table, similar to the one that the monstrous thing had raped him on, his shoulder numbed and the faint smell of soap telling him that apparently, Wesker had decided to finish up what he’d started with the washing, and the lack of pain meant that at least, he probably only did just that.

Chris’ knees were bent upwards, folding them together with black leather bands as he struggled, hearing Wesker chuckle from nearby. “Ah, you’re awake,” he smiles as he walks over, slowly running a hand through Chris’ hair as Chris tries to move his head away, finding little give as Wesker seems to find his defiance something cute. “I’m going to run a few tests on you, and see if we can’t get you to start appreciating all I’ve done for you.”

“Fuck you, you sick fuck,” Chris growled out, Wesker moving away from where he stood to start moving something else. Chris glanced back over at him, feeling a painful pull and the answering push of gauze where the sick fuck had bitten into him. Wesker simply chuckled as he pulled out what looked like a drill, only with a floppy, rubbery dildo attached to it.

“I’m sure you’ll wish that I had when we’re done, Chris,” he said simply as he coated it with lube, Chris struggling to get out of his bonds as Wesker finished and briefly moved a finger around the rim of Chris’ hole, getting the younger man to jerk away from the touch before he felt the larger, harder pressure pushed in, “but for now, let’s stick with what I’d like to try, shall we?”

Chris grunted when it started, the slow push and pull making him realize how exposed he was, how little Wesker was actually doing, and making him try to fight whatever it was that Wesker had been hinting at, the denial that is right now keeping Chris from starting to despair. He does his best to hold in his pain-filled pants as the thing begins to speed up, cursing breathlessly at each hit against his prostate that does nothing to excite him, Chris’ focus on anything but Wesker and the painful feel of being filled like this, the whole thing reminding Chris of the man who’d tried raping him when the guards had him.

The pace suddenly picked up, getting Chris to gasp in pain as he tried to pull away, struggling against the bonds and trying to look anywhere but down to where Wesker was using that…that…

The moment he stopped on it, on _Wesker_ using the thing to fuck him, the minute he suddenly turned to look at him as Wesker watched him, cat-like eyes curious, not touching him but instead using something else to fuck him, Chris felt his body…respond. He looked away quickly, cursing himself as the painful stimulation, the rubbry dildo pushing up against his stomach and jolting his insides, turns suddenly a bit pleasurable, his cock finally starting to twitch and fill.

 _No, it’s not him! It’s not for him! It’s from the vibrations, from everything else, anything else!_ Chris’ mind screams as the pain doubles suddenly, getting a pained yell out of him as his back arches and his struggles redouble, the bursts of pleasure gone as Chris tries and fails to escape. The moment the drill stops, Chris’ body falls back, his chest heaving as he pants for breath, the heavy feel of the thing in his abused ass only making it hurt all he more. He briefly hears Wesker setting something up, feels something like more lube getting squirted on his ass before the cold hand traces it up and along Chris’ balls, Chris body shuddering in pleasure at the touch as Chris’ mind recoils in disgust.

“You’re starting to get the point, aren’t you Chris?” Wesker purrs as he walks over, hand trailing the slick lube up his chest and over one nipple, getting it to start to harden as Chris shakes his head, denying what Wesker was trying to feed him. _He’s been the one to have you for four, five days, of course your body is starting to do this!_

“I’m sure you’re holding out hope that it’s not true,” Wesker says, moving to type something into the computer nearby, watching him before Chris hears something on the table click, the part holding his head up dropping down as Chris struggles to lift his head, stopped by Wesker’s hand pushing down against his jaw, the slow start of the machine again getting Chris to fight and squirm, panting at the feel of blood rushing to his head from the new position. Fear spikes as he sees Wesker unzip, his cock already hard Chris does his best to bite down, to keep his mouth shut, but the pressure against his jaw gets him to open from the pain, choking as Wesker shoves himself in completely before starting to move, thrusting in without a care if Chris chocked or not.

Chris vaguely realizes that Wesker is going at the same pace as the drill in his ass, struggling to breathe even as he closes his eyes, the slap of leather against his nose, Wesker’s pleased sounds as he pushed his cock down Chris’ throat, all of it making Chris humiliated and disgusted as he feels himself start to get hard, his body stopping from trying to get away to getting more from the dildo in his ass.

_It’s not because of him! It’s not! It can’t be!_

Wesker pulled out enough for Chris to cough and suck in air greedily, gasping as the hold on his jaw and tickle of a finger stroking along his throat as Wesker let out a near animalistic growl before pushing in again. The pace began to speed up, Chris’ mind and body struggling as Wesker forced his cock down Chris’ throat again and again, the speed of the dildo in his ass picking up at the same pace that Wesker did, his body becoming a livewire of pleasure even as his mind short-circuited from the lack of oxygen and from what was going on. He could barely think his denials now, trapped between fighting for oxygen and pushing back on the thing that had been so painful before and now was starting to hit his prostate at each go, shocking him each time with wave after wave of pleasure. He could feel Wesker’s cock pulse in his mouth, against his tongue, and Chris tried to gather up the breath to scream around it, the will to bite down.

Wesker’s hand keeps his jaw open, the pain briefly spiking as his pleasure right before Wesker pushed into Chris, the salty cum making him choke part of it down, the rest coming back up and getting Chris to nearly stop breathing as he felt himself go over the edge. Wesker pulled out right after shooting his first load, some of the remains hitting Chris’ face as he turned to cough, pulling in air and nearly throwing up from the obstruction and everything else, his mind reeling from what had happened. He hissing in pain as Wesker pulls his head up, seeing his own cum splattered across his torso and chest as Wesker lets out a hum of approval.

“It seems you just need some more attention, Chris. Learn how to better take what’s given to you.”

Chris spits at him, still heaving as he tries to catch his breath, Wesker easily wiping the cum and spit off his face, the smile still on it as he pushes to set the table back up, letting Chris’ head go after it clicks back into place. “I do so love that you’re still so unwilling to see what’s before you. It makes the day you finally give in that much sweeter.”

=

Chris groans as Wesker rolls his hips into him again, pushing up into the younger man as he groans, struggling against the grip that Wesker had his wrists in, his other hand holding Chris’ hips. He can feel each attempted, aborted movement as Chris’ body works to get closer as well, his Pointman shaking and struggling again as the pleasure built up more and more. Wesker has him at an angle that allows him to hit his prostate each time, the spasms of muscles feeling so good around Wesker’s cock as he pushed into him again and again, slowly dragging out the pleasure that Chris is doing his best to deny.

“stop, please stop,” Chris begs, Wesker leaning in to once more mark his side and chest. Marks – bites, bruises, scratches, and longer lines from where Wesker had, earlier, used a switch to put long lines of red along his back and chest. He’d enjoyed seeing Chris try to deny what was going on, enjoyed using his power over him to make Chris realize that despite the pain, so long as Wesker is giving him the pleasure, Chris’ body will respond. The begging has just started again, getting Wesker to chuckle as he pulls Chris close enough to bite on his already-abused nipple.

“let me go, you bastard, let me go,” Chris panted as the new angle began to rub more against his prostate, Wesker kissing along the younger man’s pec before biting again, leaving another red mark of his teeth, another claiming wound that starts to bleed a bit as Chris lets out another series of pained gasps as well as panting, pleasured moans as Wesker slowly pumps into him. “stop, stop, ah, please, no…no more, please…”

Wesker chuckles as he continues, starting to pick up the speed, wanting to pour more of his seed into Chris. He needs to make sure that the others know that Chris is _his_ , that—

Wesker does his best to reign in the thought, his body translating that into a stronger grip on Chris, bruises already forming as Chris lets out a cry of pain and pleasure as Wesker began to pound into him, the need to claim going from his mind to his body as he pants harder, enjoying Chris’ body, head thrown back, chest exposed to his exploration, the white gauze showing where the bite, driven deep enough to scar, standing out against his pale skin. Wesker wants to get Chris out in the sunlight, to make his whole body tanned, or simply to show him the futility of running away.

Chris groans as Wesker pushes in and stops, emptying into Chris, his erection suddenly still throbbing. He’s glad that he left on the monitors as he shifts Chris, this time putting him on the floor so that only his shoulders are holding the weight, leaving him to fight with his now free arms for purpose as Wesker begins to pump into him again, not bothering with being slow or forgiving.

“fuck, stop, please, stop, let me go,” Chris begs as Wesker takes the opportunity to begin to bite along Chris’ thighs, the younger man kicking out as much as he can as he tries to regain some stability while also trying to not allow his full weight to be on just his aching shoulders. Wesker’s hold is still bruising, pulling and pounding into the other man as he watches his cock bob, still full and erect while Wesker pushes at the prostate each time, the feel of muscles rippling around his own cock making Wesker let out a growl of pleasure before he beings to speed up, mind cataloguing not only his own responses, but Chris’ as well.

The final few pushes sends Wesker over the edge, letting out his own groan of pleasure as he once more fills Chris with his cum. The thought of Chris’ stomach full like the other prisoner’s briefly crosses Wesker’s mind, but he easily pushes it away. No, it’s far better if he simply spliced a child together, grew it out and showed it to Chris. The man would take to it no matter what, even if it was to try to keep it from Wesker.

The two men panted in exhaustion, Wesker using his strength to pull Chris back into his lap as his cock finally left the younger man. Jacking him off seemed inelegant, and the table was nearby, close enough to easily put the other man on as he struggled weakly in protest, Wesker holding him down before swallowing Chris’ cock as the automatic locks on the table activated, trapping Chris in place, allowing Wesker more freedom while he licked, sucked, and stroked Chris’ still-aching cock.

“How rude of me,” he muttered before swallowing it down again, getting Chris to let out another cry as he shook his head, trying to escape. “Keeping you in suspense for so long.”

“stop it, stop, no,” Chris’ moans were getting more and more pitiful, full of gasps and pleas that sounded so lovely in Wesker’s ears. Wesker swallowed him down as he felt Chris’ cock pulse right before it spurted out, Wesker doing his best to not swallow the cum, instead standing to move over as Chris struggled and panted, spent, against the medical table. He didn’t seem to see, or care to notice, the load going into a test tube that was taken away, nor did he seem to care as Wesker put on his clothing again, casually redressing himself as he considers what happened. He had taken Chris’ mouth, and Chris’ continued denial of the truth, that his body was _Wesker’s_ , had somehow sent him over the edge. He remembers setting up the instruments to get more data, right before Chris’ final denial had resulted in the beating, in doing everything he could to show Chris that without Wesker, he wasn’t going to _get_ the pleasure. He had nearly even called in the Majini again, but stopped when he’d recalled what that one had done, and at that point, Wesker had simply gone off, doing his best to mark Chris and fill him with cum, to make sure that everyone, even Chris, knew that he was _his_.

Wesker frowns as he looks back over to Chris, the younger man heaving and shaking his head, still obviously in denial and pain from the last few hours. Wesker types a bit more into his computers, leaving it to continue its work and calculations before going back over to run a hand through Chris’ hair, smiling as Chris doesn’t bother to move away or fight as Wesker runs a hand through the short cut. The defiance was still there, under the pain and fear that were at the surface, and Wesker loved the look on Chris.

“Do you know, I managed to save a few of our old files from back in Raccoon City?” he chuckles as he sees Chris start to focus, “I even managed a few dossiers that Umbrella got for you. They seem to think you were unimportant, in the grand scheme. Shame, how wrong Spencer and his team were.” He ran another hand through Chris’ hair, seeing the focus come back from the high of pain and pleasure he’d been in. “I’m going to tell you what Spencer knew, or what he told me, before I killed him. And after all of that, I’m going to see how well you remember it, while I ask you a simple, easy question. I expect you to answer me, Christopher. I’m done giving you pleasure for this session.”

Fear sparked briefly, then the defiance came up, full force, and Wesker smiled. “There’s the Pointman I know so well. Now, let’s start.”

=

“Sir?” the guard, one that Chris doesn’t recognize, comes in quietly as Wesker releases the rope, sending Chris to the floor, panting and sore. His body is covered in bruises and marks, from whips, flogs, and switches. He can barely stand, let alone move away, tied as he is, his legs locked together and his wrists raw from where he struggled, bound behind him, but he still uses his abused, aching shoulder to move as far away as he can while Wesker picks up his sunglasses, putting them on to speak to the man near the entrance to the room.

_He isn’t wearing sunglasses around me anymore. Apparently I’m special…_

Chris pushes the thought away, angry over it. Wesker wore sunglasses all the time, him not wearing them only meant he was about to torture and rape Chris, or show him…show…

_Zane…_

What the young man had become was horrifying, his intent and what he did to that other prisoner stuck in Chris’ mind as he tried to think of a way out. Because Chris hadn’t vetted the man for the information, because he hadn’t realized that they’d come after _him_ , instead of nobodies, Chris had lead Zane and the others into this. Because of him, Zane had been raped, experimented on, and now was a monster that raped others, that used them to incubate more monsters.

He wonders about the fates of the others, if Hosea knew…if Hosea had tried to reach Zane, but been killed, was one of the scattered bodies that he’d seen, making the room they now kept Zane in red with blood.

_No…no, he wasn’t, I didn’t see any sign…did I?_

Chris couldn’t be sure, though he knew that one of the men was now an infected time bomb, being readied to send over to the BSAA and hurt others there as well. Chris curls up around himself, his shoulders screaming in protest even as he does his best to try to focus. He has to escape. He has to get out of here and, if anything, get the information he has to the others.

_“There were thirteen of us originally. Now, there are only two…myself, and a sister, one who is surprisingly loyal to Umbrella, despite it’s fall. No doubt her training was far more focused on that loyalty than mine was.”_

Chris made it a decent amount of the way away from Wesker, though it was in the opposite side of the room than escape. Right now, he cared more about the fact that he was also creating a trail of blood, that his whole body ached from the beatings, marks, and pain that he’d gone through, and all the information Wesker had fed him, before this began.

The memory of the time before, after Wesker had fed him, made disgust pool in the pit of Chris’ stomach, fear and confusion also working into his mind as he remembers what happened, remembers the sudden change.

_Pain had rocked through him at the hit, getting Chris to cry out and try to breathe through it while Wesker walked up, looking him over curiously from the table, a strange glow to his eyes that Chris had never seen before. The yellow was more pronounced, the red and cat-like iris seeming to be blown out, like simply having Chris near him was turning Wesker on._

_The sticky dried feel of the cum that had splattered on his face reminded Chris this wasn’t the case – Wesker was just a sick ass who got off on making Chris think his body was only reacting to Wesker’s touch, only finding pleasure when it thought Wesker was giving it to him. It wasn’t, it_ couldn’t be _, and Chris wasn’t about to give Wesker the satisfaction of thinking that was the truth!_

Wesker turns away as the guard leaves, looking back over at Chris with his shades on and a strange smile on his face. “It seems your little group wants you back,” Wesker informs him, walking over and pulling him up until he’s standing unsteadily at his feet, glaring down Wesker as the other man gives him a smile before adding, “It was time to move anyway…though…I’m sure your blonde friend would love to welcome them to our abode.”

“BASTARD!” Chris manages to scream, barely managing to fight before a hit to his solar plexus has him folding over, coughing and trying to draw in breath again.

“None of that for now, Chris, we haven’t the time for your tantrums. But I will make sure the feed is live, when we hear of them coming into our former home.” He knelt near Chris, his laugh wicked as he says, “You’ll enjoy that, won’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, we're getting closer to RE5! meaning actual tentacles. and more porn. and Jill to save the day.  
> ...now I have to look up stuff about Jill, great...or play the game......  
> .....  
> Me: *watches more cutscenes with Jill and Chris*


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter - Wesker explains all he knows, and Chris does his best to try to fight back.

The helicopters are quickly loaded, as were the trucks and other transport equipment. Wesker oversaw the moving in of Chris’ own holding box, the item one designed by Lenka and now being used to transport his pointman to the new place Wesker would keep him. He lets out a slight sigh as he climbs into the helicopter after it, glancing over at Lenka and Excella before shaking his head. He’d already left much of Lenka’s toys behind, settling on gaining his own or making do with the leftover equipment in that place. An abandoned Umbrella laboratory would have a great deal of items for him to use, not to mention more computers and other equipment that, once he made sure they were functional after all these years. Though he would have to convert some of the equipment he was having one of the two P30 candidates was transporting over, along with his still-slumbering compatriot, it wouldn’t be too hard.

He can guess that Excella is more upset at losing the P30 candidates he’d given her, though she’d managed to get another one to test out. Of course, _they_ had neatly been called up to help Irving, as the man’s nature tended to result in more than a few people wanting his head at any given point, and that was even before he began selling BOWs for TRICELL. Then again, Irving reminded Wesker of many of the others he’d once worked for in Umbrella, and it made his plans for the man all the more…final.

Wesker smirks as he notices the various readouts playing out over the holding box – it’s more similar to a deprivation box than a stasis chamber, and he can tell that Chris is only starting to realize that. As much as Wesker would enjoy giving him another dose of the drug, the readout he’d gotten before shutting down most of the computers, leaving them for the BSAA to find, was…illuminating.

_If anything else, Jill will find her way into seeing the files, once they’ve been decrypted._

He chuckles at the thought of Jill seeing what he’d been doing to Chris, the information he’d gathered and the last few images, of Chris’ scarred and bruised body. The very thought of once more marking Chris, of biting back into him to taste his blood as his cock empties into his Pointman’s body, or of seeing the scars along Chris’ shoulders and neck, showing who he belonged to…it was almost enough to get Wesker distracted.

“I take it you have words of encouragement or even congratulations for me, Lenka?” Wesker said as he looked over to his second-in-command, smirking as he sees the knife in his hand. “You’re even smart enough to bring a knife to this fight. How fortunate for me.”

“You think so?”

“I’m more amazed you managed to convince Excella of anything, or think you have. The woman isn’t about to lay with someone that Spencer never bothered to grant the Wesker name to, even if they survived the Prototype virus.”

Lenka smirked as he looked over at him. “So, you know that much?”

“Of course,” Wesker told him with a small smile, “I may have only just learned the full reasoning for Spencer’s actions, but I knew the man had plans for my sister and me _years_ before anyone else did. I’m far more surprised you’re alive and well, considering how Umbrella handled their so-called ‘expendable projects’.”

Lenka gave him a long look, as if upset by something, then said, “I was not very expendable. Not after they developed the drug I have since expanded upon. The one that Redfield was given before we took him, and the one that ties you to him now.” Lenka looked almost amused as he said, “A fitting end. I was so tied before, I know what will happen when he finally dies and if you are too stubborn to take the new virus that Excella offered you up so easily.”

“Oh?”

Lenka leaned back, though the knife was still in his possession. “I tied myself to someone who fancied herself my scientist captor. Body, mind, soul, she was _mine_ , and nothing anyone else might say or do could change that for a time. Of course, she was the one who created the drug, so that we could be tied. In her mind, it was far less a method of controlling Spencer’s ‘pets’, and far more a means of insuring their future.”

Wesker wants to ask about that, but his mind quickly pulls up all the thoughts he’s had about Chris – cloning him and adding in Serval or similar cat DNA to augment his natural reflexes and abilities, mixing their DNA to have children, having him watch over Wesker grandchildren after Jake met up with Sherry…and he chuckles. “She truly wanted that?”

“Your DNA was already passed on to a child who is, quite possibly, immune to any type of disease we have. Couple him with the child of Birkin, and…well, if you allow the regular lottery to take place, who knows what you will get, but if you decide to make your outcome?”

He knows where Lenka is going, as he’s already dreamed up the researcher grandchild and their companion, along with the others who can rule over the world, not to mention simply considered seeing what the child would pick up on. Jake’s hard life meant he picked up mercenary work, but that did not mean he wouldn’t still be valuable when he and Wesker finally spoke, or if he and Chris bonded over Chris’ abilities and knowledge. Sherry was Birkin’s daughter, willful and ready to emulate Chris’ sister and her rounded approach of being not only smart but also able to beat up anyone who tried to get between her and her goal, whatever it was. She may attempt to ‘save’ Chris, out of loyalty to her savior Claire and perhaps even to the special agent that Wong so adored leaving alive, but Wesker knows he can bring her around. Especially after Simmons is exposed and she realized how dangerous her ‘mentor’ really is, how unbalanced, and how easy it would be for the new Umbrella that Wesker wished to create to act with the BSAA in ensuring the world’s peace. Wesker might still manufacture some dangerous scenarios, or allow some of the monster to roam free, but it was a start to getting the world ready for his, and his grandchildren’s, ascension to their rightful place.

Wesker looks over at Lenka, curious, before asking, “And you didn’t have your own thoughts and outcomes with your wife?” He notices the vial of something that Lenka has, the feelings of anger all but dripping from his former second-in-command as he spins the knife around casually in his other hand.

_Chris is better at knife-work, and if he were fully mine, I’d have him show you how to properly use a knife, Lenka._

“We found that reintroducing the Prototype in dosages allowed for it to not only make the current virus stronger, but it also allowed for a far better…understanding. They messed up my dosage, and sadly, the woman died. Since there were no more dosages of my strain, the mutation remains, though it can only really be used to act as a secondary catalyst to ensure the mutation is created. I will say, though, that if you are cured of the mutation, you’ll end up becoming far better than you ever were before.”

_I see…so that’s their plan._

“You’ve had your fun, and you now know what may happen if the G-virus antibodies within Sherry and the Prototype lineage virus meet under the proper circumstances. Excella may not want it entirely, but truth be told, I would love to see the actual result of such a mating,” Lenka says with a small smile, moving as Wesker watches him, as if waiting for something. He knows what Lenka is planning, and that while he is no longer as fast or powerful as Wesker, he also may have something else up his sleeve.

“Do you know, I looked up some of those ancient gods that you mentioned – Zeus and the others he bedded, like my dear Ganymede here, though information on him is very sparse,” he ran a hand over the box and smiled up to Lenka has he pauses in his approach. “There was one particular story that was _very_ interesting. Did you know about the coup that Hera once pulled on Zeus, and his punishment for her?”

The P30 agent who’d been up front came out from his area, quickly wrestling Lenka to the ground as Wesker hummed in amusement, picking up the Prototype and putting it to the side. “If I feel like freeing myself from the ‘toy’ you gave me, I will of my own volition. But for now, I do have some _plans_ set in motion, and I want to make sure you and lovely Excella at least see them start. Uroboros is a dead end, and I’m not about to watch the world burn simply because you and others are tired of it. But…you both liked it so much, I’ll at least let you have a small taste. The BSAA can wet their lips at the prospect of what I might do, and they can be ready for whatever abominations the others are willing to push out in the hopes of outdoing each other and taking over Umbrella’s rule.”

“It will not work,” Lenka growled at him, struggling from under the weight of the man pinning him, “You will only want for that one, you will be unable to function without him! You dare think you can become a god in such a way?”

“The old gods you mentioned before were as petty and cruel, willing to commit all sorts of horrible deeds for the Humans who enamored them or their loved ones. If I have to be the one who simply creates those that will rule over the world and ensure humanity at least betters itself, then I believe I can stand to be around Chris for whatever task I’m managing.”

=

He knows he screamed, he had to have, because his throat and chest hurt, but he hadn’t heard anything. Wherever or whatever he was in, it had him so completely stuck and trapped he couldn’t move, couldn’t even flex, and whatever is over his eyes and ears are barely touching his skin enough to leave an impression.

It was worse than the drug, and Chris finds himself trying to scream again, to get some sound, some _sense_ , but it only serves to make his check and throat hurt again.

Chris needs that, needs something to focus on, and tries to think of something else, anything else, before he hears the faint, barely audible whispering from whatever is covering his ears (he thinks something is covering his ears, he has to guess they are, if he can’t even hear himself scream). It’s Wesker’s voice, but Chris knows this isn’t from recently – it sounds like a recording, one he vaguely recalls from his old STARS days, and he struggles against it, against the memories that come up without anything else for him to focus on. Even the pain and attempts at screaming fail to get him to not slip back into the memories of before the Mansion Incident, before the betrayal and Wesker’s death.

Before his Captain was reborn as that _thing_ that has him now.

Chris’ memories are blurring, flying too fast between the old, almost painful memories of his time in STARS and the new ones of Wesker’s hold on him, the pain and humiliation, the declaration, the scar on his shoulder from where he was _bitten_ so badly he passed out from the pain…and then everything else that happened, the pain that only disappeared when…when…

_Stop thinking that, stop thinking that!_

The tone of voice changes, getting Chris to try to fight again, more pain and a feeling of breathlessness making him realize he’s screaming again. He doesn’t want to be reminded of what happened, of the past, of STARS, of…

_“Chris, this is Captain Wesker,” Barry said, motioning to the stern-looking blond man, wearing dark sunglasses as he looked over at him, apparently assessing him despite already allowing Chris onto the team, or at least into the final cut for the team. “Don’t let that stern look fool you.”_

_“Barry,” the tone was stern but it was also a bit kind, and the Captain walked over to them, offering a small smile to Chris, getting him to relax a bit more. “I wish you the best of luck. Burton’s spoke highly of you.”_

“Pointman Chris Redfield has a history of insubordination but has never actually disobeyed an order unless it was a badly-given one, or given an order that goes against his sense of right and wrong. He’s very much seen as the moral compass of the team, and overall friendly with everyone.” The impersonal tone, the information, makes Chris wonder if this is something that Wesker had given over to his actual rulers, to Umbrella, before they’d been lured to the mansion, before—

_Wesker smiled at the monster, looking back at Chris with that same smile on his face, like what they were seeing was glorious and not terrifying, not an abomination. Not the culmination of all the deaths of the BRAVO team, not the result of mad experiments that had killed and mutated men and women Wesker once worked with, once considered colleagues._

This is the man you think is such a great guy, _a traitorous voice cooed in his head,_ this is the man you were ready to tell—

_Chris had laughed at Wesker, hoping for a distraction, to at least get Chambers out, but he was also laughing at himself._

“His personal history seems to be rather lacking.”

_“You’re too dumb to even know what you want!” he’s not sure which had screamed that at him, back in high school, he only knows that he never should have said anything._

_He remembers how he hated himself for looking over at Jill, slim and light, easy on the eyes, a wonder to behold when she was fighting, and felt himself flush with lust and embarrassment. She’s his_ partner _, not…not…_

_He remembers seeing the Captain, half-naked and in a tight swimsuit, hair all gelled up but probably going to fall down from the water of his swim, his eyes not hidden by the shades, the blue somehow bright despite how they squinted at the fluorescent lighting and—_

He’s my captain, I can’t…

“ _I know why you were drummed out of the Air Force,” Speyer had said, but he didn’t really, he_ couldn’t _, and…_

 _Through the pain and half-choked air, the vantage now higher as he looks down at his former captain, at the man he’d_ trusted, _and sees red cat-like eyes glaring back at him, the contrast from the blue ones making him gasp as the realization fully hits, finally comes home._

He was never my captain. He was always Umbrella’s lap-dog. He’s never going to be…never…he…

_It hurts, too many memories kaleidoscope and fracture and reform around in his head, mixing up too much for him to focus on completely, that he sees…he…_

Chris screams again, pain from the expulsion of air, from his throat now being rubbed raw from his attempts, his ears straining to hear anything but Wesker’s cool voice as he lists off Chris’ faults and abilities, the pros and cons, his potential for the test to come ( _that had come, that had seen only half of the STARS team safe and then broken them all apart until the BSAA, until after they’d tracked down and killed that last holdout of Umbrella’s in that frozen tundra...Wesker had been there too, he’d gone in elsewhere, when they’d found the body it had mutated and fought someone and the Red Queen AI was gone, he has it,_ fuck _he has that psycho-machine and all of Umbrella’s files and--_ ) before silence fills the darkness again.

He doesn’t know which is worse, and between the two, he has no idea how much time has passed, where he is. Chris barely recalls what he’s doing here, why everything hurts, if he can even speak or hear anything else. It’s too much, there’s not enough to hold onto, there’s…

_Jill…he has…he had…_

_Jill, help me!_

Chris doesn’t quite know when he’s pulled out of…whatever hell he was put into. He only knows that at one point, he feels something on his skin, making him aware suddenly of how overly sensitive he is, of how bright even the darkness around him is. Chris briefly pauses as his eyes focus, and the light slowly is turned up, before he sees the screen in front of him, realizes that he can’t move his head, can’t escape, as Wesker whispers in his ear, “Let’s enjoy the show before starting again.”

Chris tries to speak, to scream, but his throat hurts too much, his mind still trying to work and catch up as he sees the BSAA standard team head in, doing their best to secure the area, fighting off the few monsters that Wesker and his men had left there. Chris recognizes most of the men going in – men he’s trained and recruited, good men – as they examine the area before coming to where Zane had been held.

The cameras move back to show the inside, still red from the others who’d intruded. Chris can’t see the man that Zane had attacked, but the mass of black and red, almost sickly in color and unnatural, with only a bit of blonde hair and pale skin, contrasting against the changes that had been made on him, makes Chris wish he’d never taken that chance, never gotten him here. It was his fault that Zane had been subjected to all of this, his fault that all the others were somewhere, hurt or experimented on, one a living bomb that the BSAA would take in so Wesker to could torment Chris with more of his own failures.

A soft, barely calloused hand wipes at Chris’ face, getting him to suddenly focus on the fact that he’s crying, and hearing the faint chuckle from his captor. “I’ve a few surprises for you after this, Chris. Try to keep an open mind.”

The few people who go in are as quiet as they can be, seeing Zane as a threat, and Chris wants to shake his head, or close his eyes, anything to keep himself from watching, but whatever he’s trapped in has him stuck, and Wesker so close to him makes it hard to close his eyes, to relax, as he watches them start to shoot at Zane. The monster he is now lets out a pained, inhuman cry as it turns, Chris finally seeing that it was wrapped around the bulging body of the man it had shoved a smaller being into, the man’s skin around his stomach pulled tight, hanging low and bulging, a tentacle dug deep into the man as he makes quiet sounds that Chris knows too well, sounds he’s made before at Wesker’s hands. A stray bullet hits the man’s skull, ending his life, and causing Zane to go into a rage. Chris watches helplessly as the men are killed, one getting in a lucky shot that ends Zane’s life as another comes up with a flamethrower, destroying the body before it can change or reanimate.

The camera angles change multiple times, more of the men dying when they run into monsters they aren’t expecting, but most of them managing to get to the gutted lab and find Hawkins there.

_Where’s Hosea? Where’s Ramiro?_

The feed is cut as Wesker turns Chris in the chair ( _not like the last one, his arms are locked onto the arms, but it’s clunky, it’s not quite a real chair_ ) as he sees the two that had been missing. Little and Ramiro are different, standing silently to one side, both wearing odd, near-form-fitting outfits that are a sort of purplish color. Neither of them seems to be fully aware of anything, and Chris’ arms jerk against their bonds, his muscles finally trying to work and get him to escape.

“I left enough information there for the BSAA to decide to not come after you,” Wesker tells him with a smile, Chris glaring at him as he continues, “but for now, we should pick up where we left off.” The sunglasses are on, probably because of the others in the room, and Chris can’t help but swallow against the fear rising up in his chest. “It’s been so long since I’ve had you, Chris. Let’s see how many you can actually take.”

=

Wesker reigns in his want to simply take Chris, without the P30 candidates working him up as they’re doing. He’s become a bit quieter in some cases, though there are bursts of noise and cursing as well. Right now Chris isn’t being quiet, but as much as Wesker wanted the P30 candidates to fuck him, the fight itself has been far too entertaining to stop. Even naked and weak, Chris is resourceful and elegant, managing to escape each time he’s given the least bit of leeway.

It’s making Wesker hard, just the thought of going in and taking Chris, filling him so much that the BSAA agent is as round as the prisoner who’d been given the half-formed fetus of that Uroboros-infected man, the blonde one who’d only ever gone after men like Chris in that way. He wanted to mark Chris again, more so now than even the scars on his body showed, the bite mark needing another, matching one to the other side of it. Wesker _needs_ to take Chris until he’s panting, hard, and unable to think of anything but Wesker. He wants to once more swallow Chris’ cock down, teasing and pulling orgasm after orgasm out of the younger man until he can barely stand up without something or someone holding him upright.

Despite what Lenka had claimed, though, and the other claims he’d made as Wesker extracted more information out of the man as he prepared his own room and play area for himself and Chris, Wesker’s thoughts didn’t take over his mind or body after he’d been reunited with Chris and shown him the footage from when the BSAA had gone into the compound nearly five days ago. Even in the half-stasis that had kept him only partly aware and partly in the sensory-depravation state, Wesker hadn’t wanted to ruin him or his mind. He needed Chris to at least still be aware, so when he finally gave in to Wesker and realized the futility of his fighting, he’d be ready for anything Wesker gave to him.

It doesn’t stop Wesker from smirking as the two P30 agents get Chris down again, holding him still as Chris struggles and pants, finally pinned too well to actually get away. Wesker walks up easily and runs a hand down Chris’ spine, enjoying the muscles play as they spasm and Chris once more struggles, this time to get away from his attention. He’s waited long enough, some part of him thinks, and the need to _take_ Chris again almost overwhelming, but Wesker manages to hold it in. He has Chris, can have him whenever he’d like, but for now, he wants to make sure Chris understands that he belongs to _Wesker_.

“You fucking bastard, I’ll kill you for this!” Chris’ voice is weaker than before, from the screams he’d produced while in the system, as well as a lack of use, but the intensity has returned to it, at least, and it only pries as Wesker’s self control. “I will _end you_ for this, Wesker!”

“I’m sure you’d love to think that,” Wesker hummed, doing his best to remain calm as his erection strained against his jeans, the nearness of Chris again making him want nothing more than to take him, even with the P30 agents here. Still, he also needed Chris to realize that he was powerless, and the demonstration with the two men that had come to save him had obviously only raised Chris’ drive instead. That defiant spark that always remained in him, even when he was afraid and alone, even during their earlier sessions, was still there, and now it was more like a fire.

_I so missed having you, Chris, but for now, let’s test out what’s here._

“While my new men,” the words cause Chris to curse and struggle, angry at him, “are perfectly able to entertain you in many ways, I think I’d prefer some private time.” Getting the P30 agents away was a gamble if he sends them after anyone working for Excella, but that might also be worth the risk as well. If need be, he still had some of Valentine’s blood, and his own, specially modified P31 to use later, after he’s worked on Chris a bit more and gotten him to understand his place here. Wesker’s amazed at how the prospect of seeing Chris again, of taking him, having him at Wesker’s mercy, could motivate him to focus so much on his new ideas and on what might be needed, on actually setting up his system be long lasting and to work to better humanity in a way that Spencer never thought to do. It was all for Chris, because of Chris, and one day, he will make sure he knows everything that he will do.

It’s also sobering, that thought and that presence of just Chris, of his Pointman, his best man. He can see why Lenka said he was so crazed, without the one he’d been experimented on, and why he decided to not only try to make Wesker get the same disease, but then to ‘cure’ him and have someone stronger, someone to simply use. If he’d allowed it, perhaps it would have happened, but trying to deal with Chris and the sudden changes? He wasn’t about to start that all again.

Some part of Wesker also wonders if that’s why Lenka was so ready to try out the same drug to collar Wesker, and then have the drug undo it all. Perhaps he believes that this is enough to make Wesker think better of attachments he’s never had, when instead, it’s only clarified his thoughts, made him see the error of such global devastation when minor ones, changes to various areas, can give him what he wants and needs. Lenka’s madness at the loss, at the continual destruction and recreation of his bond with the one he cared for, only resulted in how he is now, and Wesker knows what he’ll do to ensure the man

“I haven’t had you to myself in a little while, Chris,” Wesker purrs as he finally takes control of Chris pulling him up against him as the younger man struggles against his hold and the unyielding strength. “I need to reacquaint myself with you fully.”

He intends to do just that, he honestly does, but by the time he has Chris trussed up how he’d like him, on a soft bed and unable to get away, his body opened up and pale, still needing the suntan that Wesker wants to get for him, it’s impossible to keep the thought out of his head. He’s in Chris far sooner than Chris might be prepared for, if the hoarse scream of pain is any indication, but his body responds beautifully to Wesker’s, even as Chris shakes his head in denial of what is happening. Wesker wants the results of his tests, to see how Chris has changed, so he can see if adding in those antibodies of Jill’s will also give Chris the extra edge required for what they are going to do.

First, though, he’s going to make sure that Chris is weak from pleasure, that he’s sticky with his own cum and full of Wesker’s, and another mark, matching the scar on him, is on his other shoulder. Wesker shifts, moving so his body covers Chris’ as he rolls his hips simply, easily, licking along Chris’ neck, tasting his sweat and tears, seeing the reddened marks from the rope, the design more like diamonds then stars, but he’s going to practice at this until he gets his Pointman a few stars on his body again.

TRICELL is done with him, and he is done with them, but not before he makes sure that the BSAA know who Chris belongs to. Not before he makes sure that TRICELL pays for what they’ve done, and not before he shows what will happen to everyone else with Umbrella’s short-sidedness, now that he’s been shown the better path, the way to truly gaining control and power.

“You’re mine, Chris,” he whispers as he slowly rocks inside of him, feeling Chris’ hard length against his stomach, hearing his Pointman pant and moan in pleasure and denial, “finally, fully, mine.”

****

**_BSAA Headquarters: European Division – 2010_ **

The whole ‘hell hath no fury’ or any other ‘angry girl’ thing has never really appealed to Jill, even when she’d had to get her DELTA team members to take her seriously. She’d been herself and they’d taken to her, and those that didn’t were reminded that they were a _TEAM_ , and to grow the fuck up. She’d always had at least one other guy to back her up on her orders, as needed, but just as often she didn’t need it.

So she’s a bit peeved that they decided to wait about a month – after tests, after recovery, after her learning on her own and through a well-meaning contact named Nivans – to ‘tell’ her that Chris had been captured and was now considered missing in action. That he’d been on a few missions in South Africa, near the border of the war-torn Kijuju, when Chris had been given information that was both true but also had holes in it. That same information had been given to four of his most loyal men, and had included that Chris had been captured.

Within eight hours, the terrorists in that region had _five_ of their men, and the base had been abandoned. This had all happened a mere two days before Jill had woken up, seen someone who should be dead, and had managed to run out of the TRICELL-run hellhole she’d been in. She’d not been in the best shape, mentally or physically, and learning about everything that happened since Spencer Mansion meant also finally learning that Chris hadn’t come to visit her wasn’t due to him being in the field, or because he’d been out looking for her despite her being declared dead.

No, it was because he was in Wesker’s hands.

After the whole debacle with the t-Abyss virus, with that Jessica and how it had affected Chris’ ability to trust, Jill is a _bit_ upset by the whole thing.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE WRITING HIM OFF?”

Ok, maybe she’s very upset.

“Valentine, calm d--.” The official ducked the report that was thrown at him, one piece of which slammed hard into the wall

“I AM CALM. THIS IS ME BEING CALM. THIS IS ONE OF YOUR _FOUNDING FUCKING MEMBERS_ , WHO WAS CONSIDERED _DEAD_ UNTIL _LAST FUCKING MONTH_ , WHEN I CAME BACK WITH _ALL THE FUCKING DIRT ON A COMPANY WE NOW HAVE IN A VICELOCK_ , AND YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT _YOU ARE WRITING OFF OUR_ **BEST MAN** _BECAUSE SOMEONE SAID HE WAS WORKING WITH **WESKER**_?!?!”

Nivans, the young man she’d called in because Chris had trusted him, because his records were up there with Chris when it came to marksmanship, and who is currently cowering behind her despite the fact she’s still a) hooked up to an IV b) on bed-rest because being in any sort of stasis kinda messed with your muscles and c) is also learning the extend of her new t-virus and t-antibodies-given powers and is being _very gentle_ , is smart enough stay silent on his matter. She’s also sure he managed a glare somewhere in that cowering, which only makes her like him more.

There’s a snapping metal sound that Jill ignores in favor of glaring at the director of the European division who’s looking very, _very_ put-out by the whole thing. He’s a suit but he’s also a survivor of one of Umbella’s other “Oh, things failed, ok, time to _burn everything_ ” missions, and he’s about 110% done with Valentine, which is about as done as she is with this conversation too.

“Um…” Nivan’s quiet voice gets both of them to look at him, and to his credit, he only cowers like a subordinate about to point out the obvious to his superior officers, over any other sort of cowering, “When you mention the whole thing…what is it based on? I can leave if it’s classified information.”

The normalcy of the whole thing, and Nivan’s quiet sincerity, gets Jill to calm down. Chris had found and was in the process of recruiting Nivans (“sniping him from the Army”, she’s sure he’d say, and she’d have laughed if he said it like that) when he’d been called away. At this point, between the mansion and South Africa, Chris had managed solo and team-oriented missions and taken down so many bioterrorists it was almost enough to make her head spin. He’d helped coordinate things with Kennedy to get information on the Plagas virus that he’d had to deal with in Spain, and even managed to push for more money into their science department to create cures or even to help learn from Raccoon City and other events. It was because of this and some third-party investors that areas where BOWs would have taken hold were instead being cleaned up, with locals being kept in BSAA groups after training over outsiders coming in, unless they had specializations or were tracking one particular person.

Chris had gone to South Africa because of rumors that Wesker was there, and now, instead of her being in that man’s clutches, Chris was. Instead of them having a reunion, instead of him being there for her, he had all but replaced her for Wesker to experiment on.

The suit, Enrique Affini, let out a long sigh and shook his head as he looked over at Nivans. “It’s classified, yes, and very…disturbing. We’ve recently found the area that he may have been in, but someone tipped the group off to our arrival. We managed to only catch a few stragglers and…” he paused again before saying, “I would rather he be outside for the rest of this conversation.”

Nivans looks upset, but nods and gives Jill a look that says he’ll be back the moment he’s allowed in. Jill gives him a weak smile – the young man is too good, and she’s glad that Chris got him to work with the BSAA. She just wishes that he was also here to help train the other man as well. There’s only so much her own training and tools can give Nivans before he’ll need someone who can shoot as good, if not better, and Chris is the only one she trusts with that project.

“The report was compiled after we managed to find another one of their bases, this one near the Kijuju border. It’s likely they escaped into Kijuju, but it’s also just as likely that there’s been a…break…between Wesker and TRICELL Africa.”

She frowned at the information. “How can you be sure?”

“For one, the informants and information we are getting from TRICELL show that there seems to be a bit of a power-play – attempts to track Sherawat have suddenly gone cold, though the last known whereabouts points to her traveling to Kijuju. Also, what little we’ve decrypted seems to hint at Wesker not quite being behind the Uroboros project, whatever it is, or also beginning to voice his…concerns.”

Jill frowns in confusion, wondering about the sudden change to Wesker. The man had been ready to throw anyone else under the bus if it meant that he could gain something out of it, so what about Uroboros had him backtracking? She wished she knew more, but right now all she can think about is the fact that Affini is dancing around the report about Chris.

“That doesn’t answer why you wrote off Chris.”

Affini is silent, looking back at her, and then lets out a long sigh. “You’re still recovering--.”

“ _Just tell me_ ,” she all but growls out, getting Affini to glance at her warily before nodding.

“Some of the files we’ve decrypted are from Wesker’s own reports on…Redfield himself.” The delicate way he put that gets Jill to freeze, her fear of what he means quickly sparking through her mind as she recalls what Claire and Kennedy had reported, and all the other things they’d seen. Wesker may never have been so bold as to show off his own laboratory of horrors, but he was trained through Umbrella, and cut from the same cloth. Whatever Wesker was doing to Chris, whatever he _had done_ , it was possibly as bad as what they’d found and barey identified as Zane Marks. The recent debacle with Gabe Hawkins and the ‘sleeper virus’ in him had only served to make it so the small group in Kijuju was the last line of defense against whatever Tricell or Wesker were planning.

“What has he done?” Jill needed to know. She needed to know, so she could steel herself for when she saw him again, for whenever she saw what had become of her partner.

_Chris…_

“We aren’t sure,” Affini says, “but we do know that he’s been focusing on Chris for some time, torturing him and collecting samples. However, this all came from the first week. It’s…been nearly a month, and we have no other information about what might have happened. However, we also hypothesis that Sherawat is being brought in because of Redfield, and we’re fairly certain he’s alive.”

Fairly certain wasn’t much to go on, but considering she’d been presumed dead, it was hopefully enough for them to go on, and potentially enough to allow her to find Chris again. She just had to—

Nivans suddenly burst in, running in and telling Jill, almost excitedly, “Sir, we have news…the Kijuju team managed to get Little and Ramiro, and there’s going to be an exchange going on. There’s a chance…there’s a chance we can get TRICELL…we might be able to…we might get Wesker.”

Affini glares at him, even as Jill looks surprised by his intrusion, though she’s happy to see him. “What are you talking about, Nivans?”

“The Kijuju BSAA division sent in a report, they managed to get intel and intercept Little and Ramiro, the last two from the rescue group. They…” he pauses, glancing away, before saying, “they managed to tell us about a deal that’s going down. And…Chris is going to be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then there shall be a rewrite of Resident Evil 5. Because I'm not done with Chris yet...*bwahahaha*


End file.
